


to never regret means you have to forget

by cinderlily



Category: So You Think You Can Dance RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-07
Updated: 2011-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-16 04:07:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderlily/pseuds/cinderlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Baseball AU) The ridiculously long story of how Neil met Kent in Fall League and everything changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to never regret means you have to forget

**Author's Note:**

> Essentially this whole shebang started with saying, "You have to see [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gpE2sVr5oYs)." And I watched it and my heart broke three times AND THEN she showed me the [baseball one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guARy6iM-dM) and I was like, "I know, I will fix it with a short ficlet of baseball AU!" We went to a Fall League game and it devolved from there. From there essentially held my hand and fed me feedback for three months. She detailed the plot points I missed and even though she ended up frustrated with one of the leads she STILL betaed it for me, so I owe her my heart and any other organs for transplant. And I couldn't have done half of the baseball related stuff with out as I was stumbling about the reality like I usually do, half cocked and a little tired. She gave me love and grammar and a huge reality check. So basically I'm telling you I have awesome friends, you should all know that.

Even with his short stint in the majors under his belt, Kent felt like a sore thumb in the locker room on the first day of Fall League. He felt like everybody could see how new he was. It was something like being the new kid on the first day of school, except everyone else was new as well; they just seemed not to care.

He found his locker and unzipped his Diamondback tote. He grabbed his cleats -- immaculately clean for the last time in the foreseeable future -- from the top of the bag. It had only been a few weeks since his last game, but it still felt like too long. His uniform was already up and ready for him, his name over his lucky number 7. He started to relax.

He slowly put on his warm up gear, all the while staring at his last name on the back of the white jersey. He remembered putting it on and walking into Chase Field. It kind of felt like he was remembering a dream, but he remembered it.

“Hey, Boyd.”

Kent turned at the sound of his last name and saw a familiar face; one of his teammates from Reno.

“ALEX!” he smiled wide and threw a hug around him. He realized too late that maybe they didn’t know each other that well, but the hug back and the pats on the back told him that maybe Alex thought they did. He was okay with that. “How’s your leg?”

Alex winced. “Still a bit touchy but I’m hoping to show you up like I always do.”

“Looking forward to it.” Kent smiled back.

“Alex,” a voice came from their right and Kent turned to see a seriously handsome guy beside them.

Alex lifted a hand up, which the other guy high fived. “Haskell, long time no see, man.”

“Not my fault you got traded to the enemy,” Haskell laughed. “Who’s this?”

“Another enemy,” Alex laughed. “Neil Haskell, meet Kent Boyd.”

Kent put out a hand and tried for a relaxed smile rather than the nerdy, embarrassed one he got when he was nervous. The half smile he got from Neil told him he probably fell a little short.

“Kent,” Neil repeated his name. “You’re playing first, right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know that?”

Neil laughed. “Psychic. Or I just read your locker.”

Kent turned to find that yes, right below his name was ‘1B’. His ears went warm, Neil’s eyes widening at the no doubt blush on his upper cheeks. “Um. Yeah. Good catch.”

“I’m catcher,” he smiled and Kent was kind of unable to keep from following the curve of the smile until he realized he was _staring at this guy’s mouth_. “You think I can get my hand back?”

Kent looked in horror at where he was still holding on and dropped it like it was on fire. “Oh, um. Yeah. Sorry?”

If his locker had had a door he would have slammed his head against it as soon as Neil turned.

*

Neil’s first mistake was sitting down next to the guy when he started stretches. He wasn’t an idiot, he had eyes, and the guy apparently had no bones in his legs if the way he arched his body was any indication. Neil kept finding himself stopped, mid stretch, just open mouth staring. It was decidedly embarrassing.

His second was asking him where he was from.

“Wapakoneta, Ohio,” the kid, Kent, said with a smile. Neil thought it would distract him, but instead of the arch of his legs he watched the way his lips went around the first word. Definitely shouldn’t have made that mistake. He was screwing himself over slowly but surely.

Thankfully Kent didn’t seem to notice that Neil was eyeing him and kept going like he had everything rehearsed. “Yeah I know, silly name. Locals call it Wapak, cause it’s easier. But Neil Armstrong is from there, hah. Like your name. Cool. And this like Chick Lit writer is from there. And it’s small but it’s got its own charm.”

“It sounds nice,” he said, just to feel like he was contributing something.

“Where are you from?”

Neil turned his head, awkwardly becoming aware of the confines of his uniform. Jesus, when did he get turned on by an accent from _Ohio_. “Uh. Well, born in a small town in New York, but I got to New York City as fast as my legs could take me.”

“New York City?” Kent’s voice went up an octave. “Awesome. I mean. I’ve been there a couple of times but never long enough. I wish I could stay for like a month there. Just see everything. Baseball, Broadway, all the museums…”

For a split second Neil debated asking if he was being Punk’d, but decided against it when he turned to find the wide blue eyes looking at him so _sincerely_. He didn’t even know what he was supposed to say, something he got the feeling was going to be a trend with this guy.

He blinked. “Yeah, it’s a nice city… you like Broadway?”

Kent’s eyes impossibly went wider. “Oh yeah, I _love_ Broadway… I was in a few shows as a kid. And dance, I loved it. I think if I weren’t here I’d be dancing but… that’s just a thought. Nothing serious. I took dance to improve my baseball stance and stretch for soccer, you know? And then liked it. But it makes you wonder…”

Asking about Broadway was probably Neil’s third mistake.

*

When Neil sat down next to him on the field Kent had to actually check to make sure he wasn’t seeing it wrong. Alex had to be in the bullpen; Kent knew about one other guy from his time in Reno but he looked _nothing_ like Neil and…. Well. It was Neil. Right there. Kent focused mostly on breathing, thankful that stretching came to him kind of like breathing. If he trusted himself and his body he knew it would do what it needed to.

“So Kent Boyd, where’re you from?”

Kent’s muscles tensed, almost painfully, but he caught himself before he winced. Somehow he answered all the questions in order and he didn’t think he even veered too far off course on any of them. It was kind of a relief and kind of terrifying. Until he mentioned Broadway, because if there was one thing he loved more than baseball --or … well at least _as much_ as baseball-- it was Broadway.

So he might have gone on a little bit. But the thing was that unlike most of the other players he’d talked to, Neil understood. Kent didn’t have to explain what musical he was referencing or even _song_ and it was the coolest thing he could imagine.

Even Alex, who he pretty much considered his best friend, would usually roll his eyes if he brought up ‘Carousel’ or ‘The Lion King’. Neil smiled, actually smiled, and would make comments back about the different shows he’d seen on the stage. When Neil started to hum ‘Soliloquy’, Kent actually thought his heart skipped a beat or two before he was totally okay again.

“You like Broadway too?” he asked, somewhat dumbly. Of course he did, he’d been singing towards Kent thirty seconds beforehand. But Kent wondered, had to wonder really, if it was Neil’s mother or maybe an ex-girlfriend who’d exposed him to it.

Neil shrugged casually. “You pick it up in the city, I guess. Plus I have some friends who are dancers. They drag me to see their shows.”

“Really? Dancers? That’s _awesome_.” he couldn’t help but pause in his stretches and just sit cross-legged for a minute. “How’d you meet them? What kind of shows do they do? Are they on Broadway?”

_He knew he was being ridiculous but the smile he got from Neil made his heart stop again. It couldn’t be good for his health, but that didn’t seem to make him want to stop._

__

*

_Somehow after the first few days it was like Neil couldn’t shake Kent if he tried. The guy was smart and subtle, or at the very least completely clueless and determined. The morning stretches were a tradition, the afternoon practices filled with chatter that Neil mostly zoned out from. The guy could _talk_ , not just a lot but so fast that even if Neil HAD been paying attention it would have been impossible for him to keep up._

There was also the matter of Neil somehow not minding the distraction. Everyone knew that it wasn’t how the game went but how you personally played and so he tried his best to just play well and play hard. Yet with each day he found he looked for the familiar face in the locker room and felt a little calmer when he saw Kent. It was downright weird.

But the crux of it was that he felt like he was playing better than he had in a while. He’d already been asked to Spring Training by the Rockies in an early bid, leaving him risk free and allowed to coast the season. He was at ease, his muscles loose, but his eyes so trained on the ball it was like a grapefruit coming at him. He barely had to think about it before his body leapt up and grabbed a ball coming his way.

It seemed the only other player that Kent talked to was Alex Wong, the catcher, who was rarely in the dugout. Most games he was given time with just Kent. They talked about life, the game, where they were going (Kent hadn’t been offered Spring Training with the Diamondbacks but he had a _feeling_ and the crazy thing was with the sincerity Kent gave off, Neil totally believed him) and home. He rarely thought about where he came from – he focused on the future – but it seemed like Kent couldn’t shake the Ohio off him if he tried. It should have annoyed Neil but he only found it to be weirdly endearing.

After some games they went out to get food, late night in places that would normally make him cringe but after years of living off of per diem he’d learned to deal. It would be groups, of course, half the players in a poor hapless Denny’s or the Five and Dine down the street but somehow he’d always end up smooshed in a booth next to Kent and across from Alex. On the rare occasion he didn’t he’d have Kent in his sight line, which admittedly could be more him than Kent but he refused to over think that.

Somehow , though, it seemed like they were becoming friends of some sort. Which shouldn’t be weird; it wasn’t like Kent was unlikable, but he was most definitely not like most of his friends. He swore if he ever heard a mean thing come from Kent’s lips it would be like a dog walking on its hind legs, and if he ever cursed? Neil would eat his hat. Add on the fact that he was painfully young and even more painfully naïve, and that meant Neil should be running. Instead he found himself liking him for all those reasons. He wasn’t even sure what that was about.

*

“It’s fucking cold,” Neil whined, tugging on the end of his hoodie.

Kent laughed around his lollipop, drawing a few of the other guys’ attention. He ducked his head. “It’s _Arizona_ , Neil.”

“It’s been a little longer since some of us have been home, Farm Boy.”

He rolled his eyes. “You play for the _Rockies_ , you weirdo.”

“I still don’t get your point.”

Kent grimaced. He looked back on the field to see the Pitcher make strike two with two men on. He should be paying more attention, even with Neil being …. Neil. He started his leg stretches, flexed his feet as he rolled his left foot to shape letters.

“N-E-I-L- I-S-A-W-I-M-P.”

He didn’t mind the blank stare it got from Neil, or the laughter right after. It made the moment a little more satisfying. Maybe he’d tell Neil all the jibes he made with his foot in the middle of the air.

“I-LI-K-E-N-E-I-L,” he spelled out with his right foot.

That last one was for him to keep.

“Hey, Number 7,” the first base coach yelled into the dugout. “You planning on joining us?”

He stood up and the air whipped across his shoulders. His fingers balled reflexively and he shivered slightly. Okay, it was a _little_ cold out.

Neil chuckled and dug deeper into his sweater. “Have fun.”

“Wim—“ he started but then Neil’s hand was reaching out and suddenly he felt the lollipop in his mouth pop out, leaving only cherry flavoring in its wake.

Neil smiled, satisfied with his new acquisition – even if he was directly next to the snacks. Did anyone see that? He averted his eyes and half smiled. Like it wasn’t completely bizarre that this guy he’d met a month ago found it perfectly okay to take something out of his mouth and _literally_ swap spit. Like he wasn’t exceedingly worried about his concentration on the field due to Neil’s lips wrapped around _his_ lollipop.

“ _Brat_ ,” Kent said, just under his breath as he ran out to take his base.

*

Neil watched Kent, a lot. Something he was trying his best to ignore. The kid was so green it was painful, hopeful and happy to be there and all the crap they told the rare reporters who asked them. Only difference was, he seemed to genuinely mean it.

But he had skills, man. Skills that kept Neil’s eyes on him whenever it was practical, including when he was in the dugout just innocently watching the game. He’d look back at him and already be in the middle of a thought but usually Neil could decipher them—when all else failed he lied through his teeth and hoped it worked.

His favorite nights were Thursdays, his days to rest. He loved watching Kent at first base, all twitchy limbs and big smiles but once a ball was hit it was all work and game face. Loved the way he stretched himself out in one fast move, like a frog leaping at a bug.

He sucked idly on the remnants of Kent’s cherry lollipop.

It was probably a wildly inappropriate act to swipe the candy away from him, come to think of it. It risked a lot of questions from the staff or his teammates, but no one had caught it. Besides, the look it garnered, wide eyes and perfectly round ‘o’ lips, told him something about Kent that he’d been working towards for a while.

And if he was right, which he usually was, it could mean something awesome for his time in Fall League.

He stared out towards first just in time to catch the usually fast Kent fumble an easy catch, only to be saved by the pitcher for the out.

Yeah. He was totally right. He felt the relaxed smile on his face grow wider. It was totally on.

*

They lost by three; which in the grand scheme of things meant nothing. The Fall League was a glorified pageant of the up and coming players, but it still bothered Kent. Even more bothersome was the way he was pretty sure Neil was upset with him. He wasn’t sure why, it was just… something different between them.

Neil hadn’t exactly avoided him during the rest of the game, but he wasn’t starting the conversations. When Kent tried to talk to him he just avoided it with stilted one-word replies. He ran over their last conversation about a hundred times and couldn’t pin point a place where he might have messed things up.

When it came to the locker room he spent most of his time trying to not look at Neil repeatedly or worse to actually try and talk to him. Instead he put too much effort into folding his uniform into his locker and packing his back.

So much so, in fact, that when he felt a tap on his shoulder he jumped a foot in the air and almost smacked Alex directly in the face with his bag; Alex’s reflexes prevailed though and he dodged just in time.

“Jesus Boyd,” he reared back. “You trying to kill me?”

Kent swallowed, unable to even come up with a retort. “Um. Sorry?”

“I’m gong out,” Alex smiled and winked. “Don’t wait up.”

“We’ve got a game tomorrow.”

He got an eye roll in response. “Jesus. Not until the afternoon, live a little.”

It wasn’t until Alex had walked off in a decided huff that he realized Alex was his ride. He frowned. He knew he could probably call him and he’d come back but then he’d have to deal with an annoyed roommate for however long he decided to lord it over Kent’s head. He looked around the locker room and sized up who was left for him to plead with. A few pitchers he didn’t know, a third baseman who only spoke Spanish … and of course Neil. Neil, who was on a bench tying his shoes, looked up in time to catch him staring at him.

“What?”

Kent weighed his options and saw there was really nothing viable to go off of. “Um… are you going back to the motel?”

Neil shrugged. “Got better plans?”

“No,” he said, probably too quickly. “Just … um. I need a ride? Would that be okay?”

“Sure.”

The ride felt like one long stretch of empty space that didn’t seem to want to break, even if Kent would do anything to break it. He cleared his throat but it didn’t come out loud enough. He searched his brain for anything -- _anything_ \-- he could say that would be less awkward than being seated in the passenger seat of Neil’s car.

The radio was playing some random rock station but he couldn’t place the song to save his life. Neil did and hummed along and sang the words in a sporadic way that he couldn’t predict. Kent felt ridiculous for blushing and leaning slightly towards him to hear it better. Neil had a voice. It was… engrossing.

It hadn’t been a good idea to accept the ride; he knew it before he even asked. It would have been easier if Alex had come along, or maybe any of the other members (even if he’d feel awkward around the still new to him teammates). But all the proximity was punctuated by the fact that Neil still wasn’t talking in anything other than monosyllabic responses.

They stopped at the motel that most people were staying at and found a parking spot. The silence was building and Kent could feel it pressing in on him. Finally, he just couldn’t handle it.

“Are you hungry?” he practically croaked. Neil turned towards him with that half smile that certainly wasn’t helping anything. “I thought maybe we could order pizza or something? Alex is going out with some friends? And I was just going to order a pizza and watch whatever’s on TV because I always have too much adrenaline after games to go to bed. Alex has an Xbox, if you want to play. Or we could watch a DVD? I don’t have much but ….”

Blessedly Neil broke in to interrupt his unstoppable verbal vomit. “I’ve got _Across the Universe_.”

“Awesome,” Kent most definitely didn’t squeak. “I’m in 231?”

“I’m in 119.” Neil smiled, the tight ball in Kent’s stomach relaxing at the first genuine smile since the game had ended. “Meet you in ten?”

*

Neil hadn’t exactly thought out the whole going-to-Kent’s place thing until it was too late. He’d already swung by his room, changed into sweats and a shirt and grabbed not only _Across the Universe_ but also his hidden _Moulin Rouge_ , because if there was anybody he’d think would appreciate the movie with him it would be Kent. He reached Kent’s door and lifted his hand to knock before he saw the little metal part sticking out of the cracked open door and he gave one cursory knock before the door opened from the force and he saw Kent in the middle of the floor fiddling with something.

Kent, it seemed, had changed into his pajamas, big plaid sleep pants and a beat to hell Reno Aces shirt. The machine he was fiddling with was a small silver box that Neil assumed to be the DVD player. He laughed when Kent continued to look at the machine like he was putting together a rocket ship.

“Hey,” Kent looked up with slight annoyance. “Laugh it up, Chuckles.”

Neil put down the items in his hands and nudged Kent out of the way. “There are like three wires and they’re color coded, how do you mess that up?”

He moved the cords around and flipped the TV to AUX. The DVD player was a go. When he turned to gloat, he was struck with the fact that Kent was barely a few inches away from him. Close enough, he could feel his breath on his cheek. It was warm and the room seemed to close in on the two of them. He felt a weird tug in his chest with the knowledge that if he moved a half an inch he could bridge the gap and steal a kiss.

Normally he wouldn’t be so hesitant but for some reason it felt entirely different than before. If he put this out there and screwed things up he didn’t want to deal with the repercussions. He didn’t know when he got that feeling about Kent. Friendship was one thing for him, in the game he was used to going from team to team and making the superficial friendships you had to make when you didn’t know day to day where you or anyone else was going.

With Kent it was … he was _attached_ to him. Some would even say he was fond. It was not just a little bit disconcerting.

Kent pulled back first, after what felt like a ridiculous amount of time. “So you brought _Moulin Rouge_ and _Across the Universe_? I thought I had pretty girly tastes.”

“Don’t knock _Moulin Rouge_ ,” he said mock seriously. “It’s got Nicole Kidman in hot dresses and Kylie Minogue as a pixie. Plus Ewan McGregor’s in it and he kicks ass. I only speak the truth.”

Kent raised an eyebrow before cracking up. “That really didn’t help your case, man.”

Neil picked up the closest pillow he could find and knocked Kent in the chest. “I thought you were the one who liked musicals. I was trying to be accommodating. See if I do that again, jack ass.”

“Oof,” Kent exhaled loudly. “Trying to break my ribs?”

Neil shrugged.

“Well, I’ve never seen it so I’ll have to trust you.”

Neil’s eyes went wide. Never seen it? There wasn’t an excuse for that. He opened the case and threw it in without even bothering to ask. He turned around and then hesitated. Kent was standing up, Neil was on his knees. The room wasn’t particularly huge and there was no chairs. That left him with Alex’s bed or Kent’s and each one seemed to have its pluses and minuses. He looked for a long moment before Kent made the decision for him by grabbing the pillows and blankets off each bed and tossing them on the floor.

“Well?” Kent smiled, flopping down on the floor a few feet from him. “I’m ready when you are.”

Neil sat down with his back against one of the beds and grabbed the remote.

*

Usually it was all Kent could do to keep himself from talking his way through movies. He knew it was annoying, but it didn’t stop his mouth from opening wide and giving a running commentary through whatever he was watching. But as soon as the curtains went up – the _curtains went up_ \-- Kent found he had nothing to say.

The movie was _pretty_ for one thing, he felt like his eyes had to wander around the screen every time anything happened because he was going to miss something. For another, Neil was right; Ewan McGregor kicked all kinds of butt. His voice was incredible, and Kent was his from the first moment he was on the screen. Even if he had a creepy beard and looked like hell.

He had to admit it was hard to keep his brain entirely on the screen with Neil so close. He thought that the floor would be a safer bet than the bed because of all the baggage and expectations a bed would come with but the floor turned out to have just about the same expectations but was far less comfortable.

He fidgeted with the pillows and the blankets and followed Neil’s decision to lean up against the bed, which helped. He probably shouldn’t have made it the _same_ bed but he couldn’t change that once he did it. So he was there, a foot away from Neil. Close enough to feel the warmth that was always coming off of him, to hear him hum along to all the music, singing when it got to Ewan’s parts. (And yeah, he was never going to be able to hear ‘Your Song’ ever again without hearing Neil’s somehow endearing off key warbling.)

But mostly he couldn’t get the memory of earlier in the night when he had been inches away from Neil’s mouth out of his head. Inches away from doing something that could have been a really really bad idea. He knew that without even having to test the theory. He kept biting down on his lower lip, a nervous habit but also a reminder that he wasn't going to kiss Neil Haskell tonight. It wasn’t like it was a date – a movie and the pizza they ordered in did NOT make a date – and Neil was… Neil. Most likely straight and even if he leaned towards bi he wasn’t going to lean towards ‘Farm Boy’. It was just ridiculous.

Neil had given up humming under his breath and was flat out singing when it got to the part where they were on the elephant. This time Kent couldn’t resist it, he had to look over and watch. Neil stopped for half a second but whatever look Kent gave him made his smile double before he kept singing.

Kent recognized about half the songs, he was pretty sure. He hadn’t even known that _Moulin Rouge_ was a musical with other people’s songs but somehow they all fit together perfectly. He did laugh though, when Neil sang what was – to Kent – a Whitney Houston song. It was just a line and the line following it was sappy and yet sweet and if he let himself believe for a moment that Neil could actually mean it there was little harm in that, right?

*

It surprised Neil that even after who knows how many times he’d watched the movie, watching next to Kent was like watching it for the first time. Okay, not exactly like watching for the first time. He still found it impossible not to hum along, but the fact that Kent hadn’t seen it before _ever_ kept entering his mind at the strangest times and he had to bite the inside of his cheek not to point out bits and pieces and totally spoil the rest of the film by pointing out the smoking gun.

Kent, for his part, seemed completely into the film. It was beyond cute, the way his wide eyes reflected the screen, just like a little kid seeing a film for the first time. His mouth was opened in a perfect ‘o’ shape and when he recognized a song well enough he’d sing along, just not often. It was amusing and not just the least bit distracting.

Also the proximity didn’t help that much. It was like he was suddenly hyper aware of where Kent was at all times. He felt the slight shudder during ‘Roxanne’ and heard the rumple of the sheets where he was grabbing at them during the scene that followed. He couldn’t help it a minute later when his hand landed on top of Kent’s – to steady it he told himself—and if Kent minded he didn’t seem to show it. He turned Kent’s hand upwards and tangled their fingers. He ignored the rapid beat of his heart.

It was all very high school of him. Though he hadn’t done that in high school. It just felt like that. He felt shy, which really was just absurd. He felt like his skin was too tight and then again his chest felt like it was beating right out of his chest. He would resent it if he didn’t like it.

His stomach clenched when it got to the part where Satine broke up with Christian, like it had a million times before. This time he felt the squeeze of Kent’s fingers in his. It was silly, but it helped.

When the credits started Neil turned and caught something that made him laugh. “Are you crying, Farm Boy?”

“Shut up.” Kent shoved at him. “You didn’t tell me this was like the most depressing musical ever.”

Neil smiled, but didn’t laugh again. “La Boehme would have something to say to that.”

“It was just so…” Kent started and flailed at the screen. “Oh my gosh.”

Kent got up and went into the bathroom, and maybe Neil shouldn’t have pointed it out because it might have broken some sort of spell between them. Then again a minute later a slightly less broken-down looking Kent came back and sat exactly where he had been. He placed his palm face up like he expected Neil to take it back and Neil did just cause he could.

A warm feeling spread in his chest; yup… definitely high school.

“Were those their actual voices?”

“Yeah,” he answered, feeling weirdly proud for something he had nothing to do with.

There was a long pause before Kent squeezed his hand. “Thank you for showing me that.”

Which was kind of was a silly thing to say. Anyone could show him that, someone should have shown him that before. Really, what kind of friends wouldn’t think to do that for a guy who liked dance and Broadway?

But with a second look at Kent he had the sudden weird thought that maybe his friends didn’t know that he liked dancing and Broadway. Maybe he hadn’t shared that with the people he knew in his hometown. It was, after all, a pretty small town and from what he knew about them the worst idea was to stand out in a bad way. For a second it made him feel sad for the kid that Kent must have been, lonely and different. But he’d been lonely and different when he was a kid. Wasn’t everyone?

And then he had the odd feeling of being one of the trusted ones to know that part of Kent. He looked down at where their hands were and focused on them for a minute, somehow building up the courage and then he looked up. Kent was staring at him, like he could do it for a while and he felt his stomach leap. He _wanted_.

Before he could actually think about it too much, he pushed forward and pushed their lips together. Not quite a kiss, more a smash but it had potential and Kent moved a hand to cup the back of his head and take away any possibility of Neil backing out – which he wouldn’t, now that he was there – and pulled back infinitesimally to lick his lips and try again.

It was a slower kiss, where the first was quick and harsh. This had the need behind it, not that that shocked Neil at all. He wasn’t one to be patient. But beyond that there was the familiar tug of just pure want, not just on Neil’s side but reciprocated on Kent’s side and it made Neil feel a little better. He pushed at Kent’s shoulder trying to get to a position where he could maybe kiss down his neck, but suddenly Kent stilled.

The hotel room door handle started to move and just like that they were a foot apart. Alex walked in with a brown bag in one hand and a plastic sack in the other.

“Alex.” Kent was slightly out of breath. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to wait up.”

Alex shrugged. “Girls bailed out. But I brought booze! And take out. What are you guys--- are you kidding me with this? _Moulin Rouge_? Not even Nicole Kidman could make me sit through that. I got _SALT_. Angelina Jolie? Possible spy? What’s not to love?”

Neil looked at Kent who shrugged at him.

Neil freaking hated Alex Wong.

*

Halfway through _Hot Fuzz_ Kent felt like he might actually jump out of his skin if he sat still any longer. Alex wasn’t really paying attention, nursing a beer but looking at the screen like it was blank and Kent tried to get Neil’s attention.

The initial whispered “Neil” did nothing, the second attempt, a little louder, also fell flat. Finally Kent grabbed the hotel pen he’d been using to doodle with and chucked it at Neil. It hit him dangerously close to the eye and left a streak of blue that probably shouldn’t have been as funny as it seemed to Kent.

Neil glared at him. “What?”

Alex turned in his seat and looked between the two of them. “Am I missing something?”

“Naw,” Kent coughed. “I was just thinking of getting a soda from the machine and figured Neil would want to go.”

Alex tilted his head. “He’s got a beer.”

When Neil downed the last third of his beer and got himself to his feet Kent thought maybe his heart was beating too hard and too fast. He wondered if it was healthy, but really could care less.

“I could go for a Coke,” Neil said with a casual smile. Alex seemed to not think this too bizarre because he looked back at the screen and shrugged.

The thing was, even when they left the room they had to be careful. It was the motel where the team was staying. Other players and staff were no doubt everywhere and the occasional fan was even somewhat likely to recognize them in the hallways.

Kent had to remind himself of that over and over again as he didn’t take Neil’s hand and didn’t stop him to kiss him again. He walked as close to Neil as he thought he could plausibly get away with and after a minute he noticed Neil had gotten just a bit closer.

“Got your key?” Neil asked and Kent felt around in his front pocket until he produced the key. There was a glint in Neil’s smile. “Awesome.”

They passed by the ice machine and the soda machine and continued on to the stairs. Kent followed him up one flight and then another, almost stopping to ask where they were going but it clicked as soon as they stopped in front of the small room marked ‘Laundry’.

Kent gave over his key and felt a little like a spy as Neil looked both ways and then entered the gloriously empty room. A sign on the wall said, “For the comfort of other guests please do not start any laundry after 10 PM”.

“Sure we won’t get cau—“ the question was stopped by Neil’s sudden presence inches away from Kent. Because really, with him that close the question didn’t matter. Kent smiled. “… Hi.”

Neil smiled back. “Hey.”

His hand landed on the back of Kent’s head and there it was again. Kissing, warm and wet and a pretty new sensation for Kent – not that he’d tell Neil that. He could tell though, from the little practice he’d had, he was going to want to practice as often as possible. Preferably with Neil.

Neil who had strangely dexterous fingers and who played with his hair and made _that_ seem like a dirty act rather than something his mother had done to him since he was a child. Who made breathing into a game, see who could go the longest without air and who could take the deepest breath, to the point that he felt a little lightheaded but in a good way. Neil whose lips were soft and pliable and who didn’t laugh at how chapped and inept Kent no doubt was.

Kent felt his back make contact with a bay of washers and dryers and Neil’s hands landed on either side of him to pin him there. He realized that they were making out like teenagers, only he actually _was_ a teenager and had never made out like this before. He felt himself go rock hard and was made aware that Neil was in the same position when Neil rocked himself up against Kent.

After the shock of pleasure, the wave of complete lack of thought, he was unaware of what to do next. He tentatively rocked again, making Neil moan and lean his head down against Kent’s shoulder. It made him feel powerful, almost, and not just the least bit scared. He’d never felt so turned on nor terrified at the same time.

Neil moved up to give him another kiss and to rock one more time against him. Kent felt like he should be reciting the alphabet or something because he was so close to… to _gosh_ coming right then and there in his pants… but then Neil moved a hand to run along the inseam of his pajama bottoms and Kent froze.

“What?” Neil asked, breathless and at least a little annoyed.

Kent closed his eyes and felt a little like he wanted to cry. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to… as evidenced by the bulge in his pajamas, but he _couldn’t_. Not like that, not where they were. It was stupid, he felt so stupid, but he opened his eyes and pushed Neil back.

“I’ve… um. I’ve got to go?” He stumbled over his words and folded a little by giving Neil a lingering kiss before he turned and left the room.

He took the stairs two at a time, half fearing the sound of Neil coming back down to find him. He felt like a complete jerk, like he was still 12. His stomach kind of ached, and he was still hard as a rock and no doubt flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and want. By some blessing he didn’t run into anyone on the way back.

When he walked back into his room he found Alex still on the floor.

“Where’d Neil go?” Alex asked him, not bothering to look back.

“Bed.”

Alex shrugged. “Lame. Want to go see if Nick and the guys have Smash Bros out?”

“I don’t feel so well,” Kent said, and he wasn’t lying. He felt horrible. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom and go to sleep. You should go to Nick’s though.”

As his roommate walked towards the door he laughed. “You and Neil man. What are you? Sixty-five-and-married?”

Thankfully Alex closed the door before he was expected to answer that. He walked into the bathroom, barely having to close his eyes before the memory of lips on skin and Neil’s resounding moan tipped him over the edge and he came in the toilet. He washed his face with the cleanest looking washcloth and stumbled towards his bed.

He had to pick up a pillow and a blanket before he threw himself on the bed and tried not to think about how horrifying it was going to be to see Neil the next day.

*

To put it mildly, Neil was a little weirded out. Not that he got shut down, he’d been shut down before – albeit a very few times – and not even by WHO did it. Farm Boy hadn’t initially struck him as gay to begin with so it’d been a nice addition to the whole thing that Kent was playing for his team and not just in the literal sense.

What weirded him out was that it… bothered him. Really, he was almost _hurt_ which was just not what he thought of himself being. He’d collected himself in the laundry room then stumbled down to his room where his roommate was blessedly asleep, cracked one out in the bathroom before he fell on his bed for some much needed sleep.

But when he woke up it was to the faint smell of Kent on his clothing, the memory of movement and sensation and he was so hard it was painful. He felt like he was in sixth grade or some shit, finding out just how much fun he could have with his own hand. Not that he wanted it to be his own hand. The sick part? He was pretty sure for the first time in a while he only wanted one specific hand playing the part of puppet master. Which was just about as messed up as it sounded.

When he got to the locker room the next day he felt too warm and aware of his surroundings. Kent wasn’t there, which was supposed to be a relief but it was not quite what he hoped it would be. He moved to change into his uniform, grabbed for his cleats and suddenly he felt something on the back of his neck.

Kent looked at him from the doorway and Neil could tell he’d gotten about as much rest as Neil had over the last few days. He licked his lips and turned his concentration back down to where he fumbled with his laces. He felt at once annoyed and like he was back in high school. He swallowed around a dry mouth and was acutely aware of Kent just a few feet away from him getting ready.

“Hey.” Kent startled Neil into turning. He wasn’t looking directly at him, was going through the motions of getting ready. The only real indication that he was talking to Neil at all was that there weren’t any other players on the row and after a moment of silence Kent flicked a quick look towards Neil.

Neil finished with his cleats and stood up. “Hey.”

“How was your morning off?”

He was staring, he knew he was but he couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t say ‘ _You’ve got to be kidding me_ ’. Instead he gave a noncommittal shrug. “Mostly good. Got some sleep and a good run. You?”

“Alex and I watched some movies and ate too much.”

Kent finally looked up and met Neil’s eyes. He looked so tired and upset that he looked about twelve years old and suddenly the annoyance at being rejected two days before left him in a wave of something like relief.

Maybe, he thought, maybe Kent was just a bit freaked out and maybe he should give him a bit of a break. He was just off the farm, essentially, and Neil was perhaps a little too used to being casual about the whole thing. He relaxed a little and put a hand on Kent’s shoulder, in what could pass for an encouraging touch between friends.

He tried for casual. “You want to grab some dinner after the game? I’m a little at my limit for most places. Figured we could drive a little and find something different.”

“Yeah,” Kent smiled, small and nervous. Neil moved his hand from Kent’s shoulder to the back of his own neck, scratching at his own sudden nerves. “Sounds excellent.”

*

After a more or less sleepless night of imagining scenarios that ranged from being shunned from the locker room to an actual confrontation – his mother always called him her drama king—Kent was gobsmacked at the reality. He thought Neil was kidding for a moment, but he didn’t laugh.

Instead he smiled like Kent hadn’t totally freaked out on him just a the night beforehand, like he was _excited_ to spend some time somewhere where –Lord help him—Kent might actually have to talk and be a normal functioning person.

To make it even more surreal, even after a pretty bad loss, Neil seemed still seemed happy and not like he’d come to his senses. Kent practically tripped getting into his street clothes. Neil had only one request, something different, not that Kent knew the city that much better but he nodded and they got into Neil’s car and just headed north.

Kent figured that going with a road named after the city would be safe and they ended up cruising down Scottsdale Road in a half easy silence both staring out their respective windows and occasionally calling out options. Neil’s driving was a lot like his personality and Kent slipped his fingers around the bar above his head to maintain the urge to yell at his accelerations.

They’d made it miles and miles away and just as his stomach was about to curl up on itself in terror that he’d ruined the night Neil called out a happy “Fatburger!”

Kent had thought they were looking for something _different_ but he was really hard pressed to fight Neil when he hit him with the excited smile. They turned into what looked like a never-ending high-end strip mall. On one side there was a Benihana, his stomach growled at the concept but it would be two weeks worth of per diem and even Fatburger was pushing his budget.

Neil whipped the car around the parking lot like it was a race track and Kent gripped at the side of the seat. When they parked out in front of the small restaurant Kent thanked every deity he could think of that he’d survived.

“Looking a little pale.” Neil smiled. “My driving not helping your appetite?”

Kent shook his head, even if he was feeling a little queasy. “I’m just as hungry as you are.”

He hadn’t thought of it as a challenge really, except for the fact that as soon as they walked in there was a huge sign that read, “The King Challenge.” Somehow he didn’t have to look at Neil to know he was doomed.

He’d been hungry after the game, he always was, even with Neil’s spectacular driving. That said, he couldn’t actually make it through half of the challenge without wanting to give up. Neil seemed to not even be winded at that stage and was smiling like a crazy person as Kent slowed down, so despite his better judgment he swallowed two large glasses of water and kept going.

*

When Neil took the last bite of the burger, to the cheers of the other four patrons and the two guys behind the counter, he was pretty sure he was about to get sick. Still he smiled and waved, taking the requisite photo with Kent pointing at his three quarters of the way finished burger with an exaggerated frown.

Neil signed it as, “King Neil and his serf Kent.”

He didn’t ask for a copy, but took a picture with his phone of the two plates next to each other. He knew he was being kind of ridiculous but for some reason he was okay with his giddy silliness. Since he’d given in to the idea of Kent maybe being nervous rather than him being less than Kent wanted he was somehow far happier than he should be.

The dinner had been a whim and he hadn’t actually started to think of it as a date until they were halfway through the eating challenge. Maybe it was a stupid way to have a first date but it was most definitely his idea of a good date; stupid amounts of food, a cute guy up to a challenge and a weird mix of music coming from a jukebox.

It hit him when he caught sight of the defeat in Kent’s eyes only to see him second-guess himself, drink some water and dive right back in. A rush of something hit Neil, like adrenaline mixed with a buzz of happiness.

 _Date_ , he thought. _This is a date._

He hadn’t been on a real date in years, it should have made him want to run but instead he just kept going. The food was the easy bit; it was like the date itself was his own personal King Challenge.

So what if Kent needed a little wooing, for the first time in a really long time he was pretty sure he was worth it.

*

Not even entirely sure it was a date, Kent walked down the hallway towards his room with a weird ball of nerves in his stomach. Neil talked and talked and Kent tried to listen but mostly spent the time thinking about what he was supposed to do when he reached the door.

About halfway down the hallway he felt Neil take his hand and his stomach jumped. He had just enough time to process that he was being pulled in one direction before he realized he was in the little ice and soda machine nook. Neil looked a little nervous and Kent felt so nervous he could barely stand up but suddenly Neil leaned down and kissed him.

After the intensity of their last kisses it felt beyond innocent, yet a tingle ran up his spine. It lasted maybe ten seconds before Neil pulled back and smiled.

“Figured it’d be safer here than where we could be bugged by … distractions.” He smiled and winked and Kent’s ears burned.

Kent put a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. He licked his lips and tasted the remnants of the kiss. He smiled and felt a little bit reckless as he moved to give Neil another kiss. He felt his stomach tense and he was just about to push himself up on his toes when he caught the sound of voices in the hallway.

They pulled apart just about two seconds before three of their teammates—including Alex-- walked past. They looked in and did a double take. “What are you guys doing?”

Kent wasn’t sure if he opened his mouth words would actually come out, so he was thankful when Neil responded for them. “Well, we were going to buy a rocket ship, but it looks like all they sell is soda so we figure we’ll go with that.”

“Hilarious, Haskell,” Alex faked a laugh. “We’re going to play Smash Bros. You up to getting your ass handed to you?”

There were about a thousand things that he’d rather do right at that moment, but he nodded. “Uh, sure? It’s in 236, right?”

“You coming, Neil?” another teammate, Nick, asked.

“You think I’d miss my chance to school you guys?” Neil’s voice sounded relaxed beside him. Kent wondered how he could play it so cool. “We’ll see you guys there.”

The other three shrugged and walked on. Neil dug in his pocket and grabbed a few dollar bills.

Kent tilted his head. “What are those for?”

“The soda we were supposedly looking for,” Neil whispered. Kent blinked. Yeah, their alibi. Right. Neil handed him a Coke and grabbed another one for himself. “Look, my roommate has early morning physical therapy tomorrow. He’ll be gone at 6 and won’t come back until after the game.”

Kent rolled the can in his hands and focused on the spinning top. “… and?”

“I was thinking privacy might be nice.” Neil shrugged. Kent looked up at him and noticed Neil’s smile seemed a little nervous. “If you don’t want to it’s not even that big of a deal, just figured…”

“No,” Kent answered, probably a bit too quickly. “That sounds awesome. I’ll be there. Like six fifteen? Or you can text me if you want when he’s gone?”

Alex rounded the corner and Kent almost jumped out of his skin. “Text message when who’s gone? And what the hell, you guys buying out the lot? Jesus.”

“We’re going running tomorrow,” Kent lied, surprisingly easy. “His roommate has PT so we figured we’d go after he left.”

“O…kay?” Alex shrugged. “Whatever. Come on, we’d like to play sometime tonight.”

*

As always Neil woke up when his roommate, Danny, slammed the door to his hotel room shut. He tried telling him that it was annoying as hell, had begged him to just gently close the door or even just leave the door a little open –screw safety—so that he could grab the extra hour to two hours of sleep that Danny’s PT could afford him.

For once though, Neil wasn’t annoyed by the early wake up. It gave him time to wake up, and even more importantly it gave him time to slide out of the bed and into the bathroom to freshen up. He wasn’t the type to usually care what an early morning hookup would be like, everyone had morning breath and mussed up hair but for once he did care. He ran a wet comb through his hair, brushed his teeth and threw some cold water on his face.

He looked halfway decent but made sure not to look like he tried.

The knock at the door was tentative and had he actually been in the bed he would have never heard it. Neil pulled down his wife beater and checked one last time in the mirror, chuckled at how absurd he was being and then opened the door to the room with a lax smile.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he joked. He was amused to find that Kent was fully dressed, jeans and a white wife-beater. Hair done immaculately, looking like maybe he had even squeezed in a run somehow in the freakishly early hours of the morning. Neil put his hand out, grabbed at Kent’s shirt and yanked him in.

Kent stumbled forward but laughed as Neil led him the short distance towards the bed. Neil landed first and Kent tried to catch himself but failed and landed on top of him. He couldn’t help but push himself up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, you and your impressive weight crushed me.” Neil rolled his eyes.

Kent pressed his lips down to the side of Neil’s mouth and then to a real kiss. Neil wouldn’t admit that he thought it was adorable, but it was. The way that Kent closed his eyes and inhaled like he was trying to memorize the moment.

“Mmmm,” Kent smiled, eyes still closed and barely an inch from his face. “Minty.”

Neil repositioned them so that they were underneath the blankets. “You aren’t so bad yourself. Did you _actually_ go running this morning?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Kent mumbled and went red.

“Is that so?”

Kent grabbed an extra pillow and shoved it onto Neil’s chest. “Shut up.”

Neil wrapped his fingers around the back of Kent’s head and pushed up to kiss him again. The more rational part of his brain was reminding him of the other night, taking it slow and of his own pride. His hind brain, on the other hand, was declaring just how little he cared. He blamed the fact that he was literally covered in a Kent shaped blanket but wasn’t sure that would hold up in court.

Kent lifted himself up and put his hands on the bottom of his shirt, not losing eye contact with Neil except for the brief second it took for the fabric to cover his eyes, and suddenly nothing else mattered. He put a hand out to touch Kent’s exposed skin and exhaled.

There was nothing left of his pride and he was entirely okay with that. He let his fingers trace the lines of Kent’s chest, the almost fully there six pack and the curve of where his hip went down below his jeans. Kent started to laugh and Neil tried it again to find which particular piece of flesh was ticklish. He filed it away, unsure of when he would use it again.

Probably to distract him, Kent leaned down and kissed him. First on the lips, then on the tops of Neil’s cheeks and then the tip of his nose, something that Neil felt a bit childish but when he moved his hands to move him back down Kent took both hands into one of his and pinned them down.

Kent looked him in the eyes, seeking permission Neil assumed and Neil could only nod.

*

Kent woke up a few hours later with the weird feeling of being in the wrong place. He hadn’t even opened his eyes and yet his whole body hummed with the feeling of ‘wrong’ and he couldn’t help but fear that he’d fallen asleep in someone else’s room.

That was until he felt the warmth of a body behind him, when in one giant rush the last few hours came back in Technicolor. The look of shock on Neil’s face when he didn’t really say anything but instead just took control. The _permission_ that Neil gave him. Kent’s stomach flipped at the thoughts that seemed to bottle up in his mind.

They didn’t go that far, to be honest, something that Kent would never be able to voice his gratitude towards Neil for. They went at the pace that Kent set and unlike the time in the laundry room he had not an ounce of discomfort or fear. Instead all he felt was _want_. More skin, kisses and time. More intimacy.

He found himself addicted to the way that Neil smelled beneath him, the taste of the skin at his collarbone. After years of watching sappy films with frenzied sex scenes he found himself quite the opposite, he wanted to take it as slow as possible.

When he finally braved to turn around and open his eyes he half expected an amused look on Neil’s face; for him to look at Kent like he was some sort of newbie in a club of people used to it. He felt embarrassed and silly and so very young. Instead he saw a smile of what looked more like contentment tug at the corner of Neil’s lips.

“Hey,” Neil leaned forward a little to give him a kiss. “Thought you might have gone into a coma for awhile.”

“I think I did.”

Neil chuckled, blowing on his fingernails and wiping them on his collar. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You really should,” Kent said, deadly serious. He paused for a moment before adding, “… Is that how it always is?”

Neil gave an exaggerated blink and then rolled over to stare at the ceiling. “That was your first time.”

It wasn’t a question in the least; Neil had exhaled at the end of it like Kent admitted he had leprosy or something. Kent’s stomach dropped.

“Should I not have told you that?” he fretted. “I mean, it wasn’t like my first time doing _anything_. I had girlfriends in high school and it wasn’t like we were chaste or anything I just… um. Haven’t had much experience with guys? I always wanted to but you know… the job doesn’t really make it easy to go out there. Cause what do I say, ‘Hi, my name is Kent and if I get this wrong I might get fired and beat up’?”

“Breathe?” Neil asked. Kent did, then he realized that he actually hadn’t breathed through the tirade. He shifted back a little, afraid that he’d made Neil mad.

Neil moved a hand forward and grabbed for Kent’s arm.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. “It isn’t a bad thing. Just a … new thing. Something to process, you know? Only girlfriends before now?”

Kent nodded. “And a really bad experience with a drunk guy at graduation. He thought I was his girlfriend, I think? And went for it and I had to push him off and then he had this huge freak out cause he kissed a boy and I had to run away. Thankfully I was in baseball and he didn’t seem like the kind of guy to run for more than twenty feet without needing a water break.”

“He thought you were his girlfriend?” Neil laughed.

He smiled. “Yeah, she had really short hair and he was really drunk.”

“That doesn’t count,” Neil told him, as if homosexuality was a giant game of Tag or something. “You know, that’s something you kind of lead off with, for the record.”

“I promise to never do it again?”

“That explains the freak out,” Neil thought aloud, totally ignoring what Kent thought was a pretty funny joke. “You’re not going to go crazy creepy boyfriend on me, are you?”

Kent thought about it for a moment, emotions mixed between slightly giddy at the word ‘boyfriend’ and crushed at the rest of it. “No… of course not.”

“Good,” Neil looked doubtful but seemed to be giving him the benefit of the doubt. “Because I’m really not looking for something defined, you know?”

If Kent was a rational adult it would be a defining moment, where he said to himself and then to Neil that he **did want** something defined. But he wasn’t, or at the very least he didn’t want to be. The images of pure bliss from earlier clouded his judgment and how would he want to give that up? He would make himself cross that bridge when he got to it.

“Yeah,” he heard his voice say. “Totally. Who wants defined? I’m cool with just… whatever.”

Neil smiled at him. “If we can agree on that, we’ve got about an hour and a half before we’ve got to be at the field…”

In an instant Neil was on top of him, his stomach flush with Kent’s. The concept of ‘defined’ was the last thing on his mind.

*

Maybe starting the whole thing with Kent was a gigantic mistake, but Neil figured it was already made. They still had a while left before Fall League was over and if he ever met a man who could turn down consistent and fantastic sex then he would eat his hat.

Plus, bizarrely, he actually just liked the kid. He liked the vaguely stupid jokes he would tell, the way he laughed at the most random things, and the way his voice got when he was excited, like what he was about to say was going to change Neil’s world view when in actuality it was usually gossip or really stupid facts. He even liked the way Kent would look at him like he was completely crazy when he mentioned something that should be common knowledge – he really was a Farm Boy.

Each time they had a day off they figured out a way to spend it together. Escaping somewhere in his car or lucking out and having his roommate need PT or a date in the same city. Those were the best, waking up to find eager blue eyes inches away.

So yeah. Consistent and fantastic sex, it was something he couldn’t turn down if he tried.

His only real fear was the end of the season. He told himself it was because it was going to cut off his main source of fun, but when he thought about the inevitable look on Kent’s face he got an indescribable pain in his chest.

He knew it was unfair to keep going on the path he was going when he saw the way Kent looked at him sometimes. Not that it was a bad look, quite the opposite, yet it wasn’t one he was prepared to handle. He comforted himself with the fact that he had in fact warned Kent he wasn’t looking for anything defined. It didn’t really help.

Then time passed and he kept telling himself that he didn’t have to handle it. They had two months… one month. But then there wasn’t time. He had to do something and do it quickly or else everything was going to become a mess.

But the morning of the last day, as he walked into the locker room and caught the face splitting grin on Kent’s face he got the feeling that it was too little too late. Kent looked at him like a thirsty man looking at water, and to make matters a little more embarrassing Neil was pretty sure he looked at Kent the same way. He had no choice. None. This was supposed to be a Fall League thing.

He had to do something about it, he just had no idea what.

*

Bottom of the ninth and the score was so skewed in their favor it was almost ludicrous. The other team seemed to have conceded defeat but went through the motions in that quiet determined way of a team down 11-0.

He and Neil had been called out to let some other players get the experience. Most of the time this would’ve bugged the heck out of Kent but he smiled and tapped his hat at the smattering of applause. It was their last game in the Fall League and in spite of himself he was feeling less excited by the moment at the prospect.

“When do you head back to the Sticks? “Neil sat beside him, chewing on the chord of a Red Vine he’d wrapped around his arm.

Kent swallowed. “Thursday. But just for a few days. I’ve got a place here.”

“Little optimistic?”

He smiled reflexively. “It’s a month to month. But I figure where better to put down roots than in Spring Training grounds?”

“What if you get sent to the Grapefruit League?”

“I guess I’ll have to change my plans then. For now it’s just good not to end up on my twin bed for the long weekends.”

Neil nodded, his eyes looking at everything except Kent. “I’m going to visit some friends in New Orleans and then up to New York to visit family. I don’t get back till Spring Training.”

It hit Kent about a moment too late that Neil was … well. He would have used the term ‘dumping’ him if they’d been in an actual relationship outside of late night talks and early morning sex. Honestly he’d never thought the whole thing out. He wasn’t sure how he thought it was going to end but he’d always known it had an expiration date. He inhaled and felt a weird sting in his chest. He felt oddly hurt.

“Oh… uh. Yeah.” He blinked, aware of Neil looking at him from the corner of his eyes. His limbs felt awkward and uncomfortable, stretching themselves too close to the warmth of Neil beside them. It was just like he was nine and having a growth spurt. His body was betraying him. He tensed himself and tried to move an inch or so without looking like he was flinching back.

Silence stretched in the space between them, Neil looking at the field and Kent looking at the pole that most of their team was already leaning against, rallying for the last out. He blinked over and over again until he heard the familiar bark of the home plate umpire and the cheers from the rest of the team. Then he forced himself on his still too large legs to walk out onto the field. One of his teammates grabbed him into the huddle.

He felt disconnected. He wrapped his arms around his temporary home team and exhaled.

*

By the time Neil stepped out of the mostly-unnecessary shower that night the locker room was fairly empty. Most of his teammates had their stuff cleared out of their lockers, even if they had twenty-four hours to do so. Some were already heading to the airport, and others towards some bar in Old Towne for a night of stupidity.

He caught sight of Kent and almost turned around before he realized how stupid he was acting. So he hadn’t exactly been prepared for the way Kent looked at him in the dug out, pained and sad rather than relieved or indifferent. He hadn’t been prepared for the way that would actually make him feel pretty pained as well. Maybe it was a sign that he was getting too old for this shit, maybe it was just a mixture of homesickness and nerves for the next year. Either way, he wasn’t about to back down like a girl or anything.

Their lockers were divided by four empty ones, the only thing left was the taped off names on the top of each one. Kent stared into his like he was staring at a TV, no actual emotions just empty and tired. Neil made himself move his hands in front of him, left his helmet and a glove on the top deck. He dug out the worn and ugly orange and black bag and started to throw things in.

Beside him he heard the rustle of another bag hitting the bench and looked over to find Kent’s equally disorganized packing. Kent looked up at him for a second and froze. Neil couldn’t help but laugh. Kent’s eyes went wide.

“What?”

“I was going for making this easy, not turn us into some episode of _the Hills_.”

Kent’s brows relaxed and the right side of his mouth tugged upwards. “You watch _The Hills_?”

“Want to go get something to eat?” he asked.

As if closing a door between them, Kent turned back to his locker and back to packing. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

Neil felt like he’d gotten a slap to the face. He exhaled, staring opened mouth for just long enough to cause concern if someone else was watching. No one was. He knew that. He knew that even if they were they’d wave it away as just guys being guys. He knew the rules of the locker room.

He went back to packing, hoping his mouth would eventually close. Beside him Kent zipped his bag and turned toward the door. He was just about to turn and say something, but he found there wasn’t anything to say. The thud of the closing door ended the conversation before it could start.

*

As Kent stepped out of the airport he had to shield himself against the whipping cold air. Ohio in December was a little colder than he’d remembered it, funny how he’d only been away from it for a year. When he’d visited in November it was crisp but nowhere near as startlingly so. He shoved his hands in his coat and caught sight of his mother, in the same car he had been driven to Little League, laying on the horn and waving through the thin veil of white snow falling around them.

He half jogged towards her, hoping she’d stop with the embarrassment. This was a pipe dream, he knew, and was brought home by her jumping out of the front seat and crying out, “BABY!” before bundling him in the tightest hug he could remember.

He hugged her back, because she was his mom and felt so familiar and maybe he’d been more homesick than he’d let himself believe. His eyes stung and his throat closed before he could stop it and as such when she pushed him towards the passenger seat and started an unbroken series of questions he couldn’t answer them.

“How’s Arizona? Is it cold yet? How’s your apartment? You remembered to pay your rent for January, right? Are you eating? Are you getting out of the house enough?”

He lost track in the middle but when she paused he tried his best. “Arizona is beautiful, my apartment is clean and paid for. Yes, I’m eating and getting out of the house. ”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” his mother broke her concentration on the road to glare at him. He was just about to point out that there was slush on the road when she looked back. “I’m just worried, you look tired.”

“I just got off of a plane,” he pointed out, aware that it was pretty futile to fight with her about this.

She sighed. “Well, at least we get you for the next few days. The Greenfields tell me Lindsay is coming back for a few days.”

“Mom,” he rolled his eyes, suddenly reminded of just why homesickness was a good thing. “Really?”

“What? She is perfectly nice and you used to date…”

He leaned his head against the window, he had an HOUR of this to go. “We dated in **fifth** grade.”

“She’s going into a Veterinary program,” his mom glossed over the fact. “And Claire is coming back as well. She goes to U of A. Tucson isn’t that far from Phoenix, is it?”

Lesson learned, he found it easy to settle into a steady rhythm of ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am’ for the bulk of the journey back home. They hit Wapakoneta city limits and his first thought was, ‘I want to go home.’

He wasn’t even sure what that meant.

*

The weird thing about coming home during the off-season was each year he found less people he recognized, fewer people he needed to visit. It was like the city that had too many people to count was slowly becoming a place he used to know, a place he used to live. The thought struck him as almost heartbreaking and made him second-guess coming back.

His family was so stereotypically themselves that he felt like he could script every conversation before he had them. When he’d given up the ghost and gone back to NYC, the few friends still there were all stuck in some sort of time warp and for once Neil didn’t quite feel like he belonged in the memories. He found himself walking around the city a lot, even if it was too cold and a little too busy for his liking.

When that lost its luster he went into bars he halfway recognized and drank beers that were easily recognizable. He felt indescribably lonely and tired. He tried to blame it on the season, the location and even on the people around him but with the days passing he knew that it was him.

He unlocked his phone with the stroke of a thumb and opened his message box. It was sadly empty, no doubt a victim of his overuse of Twitter. The last text message he got was from his friend Paul the day after Christmas asking him if he had plans for New Year's. He hadn’t responded. That was two days ago. The text before that was from Christmas Day, his cousin whose misused spelling and lack of grammar made it hard to decipher.

Half a page down, still on the first screen of texts, was one from over a month beforehand. He’d tried a few times to mass delete it but always second-guessed himself.

Kent : _Happy Thanksgiving_.

He wasn’t even entirely sure it had been sent to him on purpose. The impersonal nature screamed of one of those texts that were sent to the entirety of one’s phone books. He hated those stupid things. Deleted them as soon as they showed up… but he hadn’t deleted this one.

The bartender asked if he wanted a refill and he nodded. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was drinking at the moment but it was good enough for now. His finger hovered over the reply button for a long moment.

Neil : _Hey._

*

He’d thought being in Ohio for the week between Christmas and New Year’s would be fun. Obviously he’d been hit by one too many baseballs in the Fall League, as fun was not a term he would use to describe shoveling snow a foot and a half deep just to get into his mom’s car and _defrost_ it before he could get to the batting cages.

Or the countless times his mom would point out girls from his really scarily brief time in the girl dating pool and wave at them emphatically in public places. He would claim she was setting it all up, but the town was small enough that the random meetings were mostly plausible. The fourth time they ran into Claire he began to have his suspicions.

It was just… all too familiar and yet not right. He loved his family and he loved his hometown but he kept turning corners and expecting to run into a teammate or maybe get to the batting cages and find _anyone_ in there besides him. It was a kind of lonely existence. Which in a town of less than ten thousand was kind of hard to imagine.

He was about to leave the small gym in the back of his high school when he heard his phone beep from somewhere in the bottom of his bag. He dug it out, passing by the wet towel he’d thrown on top without thinking and grimaced. He thanked his forethought to buy the most hardcore case on earth for his phone as he forgot about it a lot of the time.

Neil : _Hey_.

He blinked down at the screen and backed out of the screen to check that it was the right text message. Checked the number to check it was the right Neil. (Like he knew anyone else named Neil.) But it was **Neil Haskell** , texting him.

Kent : _Hey_

He sat down heavily on the bench nearest to him and thought. The last time they’d talked was the day in the locker room; that crappy conversation where he had to fight a few urges and blindly pack his bag, high tailing out of the locker room without saying something really stupid. Something like, “Sure, dinner sounds great. And then maybe more. Definitely more. As much as you want to give, okay?”

Neil : _How’s PHX?_

Kent had texted him on Thanksgiving; almost a month later and he still regretted it. It was just… he missed Neil. A little. And his mom kept asking him why he looked like his heart was broken and he had to lie and say something about not making a goal and he _hated_ lying to his mom. He’d sat on their stoop and fumbled with his keys, wrote three drafts before he just sent two simple words. Even still his heart raced when he thought about it. He wondered if it was just being home that made him feel so young.

Kent : _In Wapak. Which is mind numbingly boring._

Neil : _Funny, NYC is about the same._

He bit the inside of his cheek and stared at the screen. He tensed and relaxed his fingers, wiggling them like he was over a keyboard and not the tiny buttons of his phone. He started typing and then removed all of it, twice, before settling on:

Kent : _Isn’t it the city that never sleeps? Something to do around every corner?_

*

Neil laughed at the response and the six people nearest to him turned to look at him. He was surprised Kent hadn’t called it the ‘Big Apple’ or used ‘aw shucks’. _Farm Boy_ , he’d teased him but it was one of those things that became more true with time. He’d spent his share of time in a small town, but he wondered if he could ever have been that innocent.

He took a long sip of his… whatever. Tasted sweeter than he usually ordered but whatever.

Neil : _Something to do gets boring flying solo._

He guessed he was losing what little sense he had when he read that back over. It sounded so … maudlin. He lifted himself off his stool and grabbed for his wallet. He’d probably had enough. He settled his tab but sat back and waited.

Kent : _I guess I know what you mean. Except maybe the opposite._

Which told him a great big fat nothing.

Neil : _Way to be vague, Farm Boy._

Kent : _I know everyone here but I still feel like I’m flying solo._

Before he got a chance to respond Kent beat him to it.

Kent : _Plus it’s like … cold here. Snow sucks._

Neil laughed so hard he snorted. He was running a pretty good buzz, headed toward tipsy. He shouldn’t be talking to Kent… it could get dangerous. But then again he was alone in the middle of the biggest city in the world and it had been his first genuine laugh in as long as he could remember.

He got to his feet, albeit with little grace, and made his way out to the sharp snap of New York night. He waited all the way to getting into the back of the cab he didn’t really need before he hit a few buttons and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hell—hello?” Kent’s voice echoed over the line, like he was in a tunnel.

“Cold, huh?”

Kent let out a ragged breath, one that somehow made Neil’s stomach ball up. “It’s like negative something out right now. Makes my muscles freeze just thinking about it.”

“I can’t see you sitting still long enough for that to happen.”

“I can’t remember how I survived winter in high school, how did I keep in shape?”

Neil laughed. “You mean last year?”

“Two years ago,” Kent responded, like that made that big of a difference.

The cab was in stop and go traffic, the driver kept throwing curious looks at him through the rear view mirror. He exhaled. “How could I mix that up?”

“You know, you’re only like 5 years older than me,” Kent practically huffed.

Neil practically choked on his laugh, earning another weird look from the driver. “ _Only_ five years. Yeah.”

It felt ridiculously longer than that.

*

“Where are you at?”

“I’m kind of at the batting cages,” he said, the words running together.

“How are you _kind of_ at the batting cages?”

Kent looked around. “In the locker room, actually? At the high school? I mean um, my high school. The old one? I was trying to get some practice in but I couldn’t get my body to relax. Now I don’t want to have to warm up the car but I think I have to get it back to my mom soon. I think I’ve got cabin fever or something. But for the whole town or myself, you know?”

Neil’s laugh was weird in his ear, lower than it had been. “Yeah, I know.”

He twitched the keys in his hands, flipped them into his palm and then back to dangling. He figured he should leave, sooner rather than later. He just had to get up the nerve to get into his coat and run outside. That would probably mean hanging up the phone. He pocketed the keys.

“You got plans for New Year’s?”

“I think my family has something with the Church?”

Which sounded just as pitiful out loud as it had in his head but he had trouble with his mental filter even on his best days. Take away the fact that he was on the phone with the guy who he’d been thinking about for a month solid and even just being home threw him off his game.

“Yeah, me neither,” Neil sighed. Kent couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something key. “My friends want to go out. Maybe catch Times Square but I’m not feeling it.”

“We could um… hang out,” Kent paused. What the heck was that? He was _States_ away from Neil. “You know, if we weren’t a million miles apart. Uh. We could.”

“And miss your barn raising?” Neil teased.

Kent’s face went warm. “I’m not _Amish_. Geez.”

“We could, actually.”

He tilted his head. “Be Amish?”

“ _Jesus_ , Farm Boy,” Neil coughed around a laugh. “I mean hang out. For New Year’s.”

*

Kent found that no matter how long he stared at the bag at his feet there were no answers coming from the bag, nor from the long silence. Neil didn’t laugh like he was joking about the whole hanging out thing. He didn’t take it back. It was like he … maybe actually wanted to do it.

“Kent?”

Words. He needed words. Okay. He breathed. He could do this. “ _Yes_?”

It was a squeak and sounded more like a question than an answer but he didn’t particularly care. He was horrified at his own immaturity but that was something that came stock with being himself, he was used to it. He exhaled and waited.

“Yes?” Neil laughed. “Don’t sound too excited, man. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

Kent laughed, mostly for real this time. “You already have an ego. I just… you want to hang out on New Year’s? You want to come to Wapak? Or… you want me to come to New York?”

“No offense, but I’d rather forgo a Fargo Christmas.”

“Fargo is in North Dakota,” Kent huffed.

“My apologies,” Neil dismissed. “You could come to New York … but it’s pretty miserable and tickets would probably be bad. Add on hotel and it’s a month in triple A pay.”

Kent swallowed around his disappointment. “You’ve got a point. So I guess we’re stuck where we are.”

“You still got that place in Phoenix?”

He paused and blinked. “Um. Yes?”

“I hear it’s like mid sixties right now,” Neil said, like they were talking about Paradise. “And we could actually use practice facilities not meant for high schoolers or weekend warriors. What do you say?”

“To what?”

Neil sighed, but it almost came out as … affectionate? Kent couldn’t read Neil even when they were face to face so he was hopeless over the phone. “Meeting up in Phoenix. We could spend New Year’s eating some steak and drinking some beer. Or head over to one of the other guys and hang there. I’ll send out some texts..”

“Neil, it’s the twenty eighth, you really think we can find tickets to get us there? Plus, won’t your friends get like… annoyed with you for ditching them?”

He left out the fact that they hadn’t even talked since forever and that he was pretty sure Neil had _dumped_ him. All that seemed unimportant at the moment. He started to pace anxiously around the room with sudden and abundant nervous energy.

“Let me handle that, Farm Boy.” Neil brushed it all off like it was easy. “Which airport is closest to the middle of nowhere?”

“Dayton International… hey it isn’t the middle of nowhere. We have ten thousand people!”

Neil hummed his lack of caring. “Fine, whatever. I’ll email you the details. See you soon.”

Just like that the phone disconnected and his brain was left processing the fact that he had no idea what was going on. Only that apparently he was going back to Phoenix earlier than he planned to see Neil and however that should make him feel couldn’t be pinpointed. Despite himself he could only register the giddy nervous feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

His phone rang again and the butterflies stopped mid flap when he saw who was calling.

“ _Mama_.”

He thought for a long time about waiting to do it until he got home but the thing was, he wasn’t sure that he could manage if she looked sad. He had strength in a lot of ways, but his mother’s tears were something he just couldn’t deal with. But she surprisingly was okay with him leaving three days before New Year’s, a fact that made him feel even lamer for not braving it to her face.

“You’ve looked like someone broke your lucky bat for _days_ , honey. You should go and be with your friends.”

He didn’t have the heart to correct her with the word ‘friend’, as Alex was off visiting family and he really didn’t know many people in Phoenix but if it kept him from getting yelled at he was all for it. She had been upset about him keeping the car for so long, so he’d made his way through the streets of Wapak with a nervous energy. His phone chirped at him, meaning he had an email but he wasn’t crazy enough to check it with ice on the road.

It wasn’t until he got home that he realized that Neil had kept to his word, an email confirmation on his Blackberry from United Airlines. Neil had booked him on a flight that got him in to Arizona at about one the next afternoon. A ridiculous bubble of glee popped in his chest at the follow up email telling him Neil would be getting in at 12:45.

*

Neil hadn’t exactly been in the right frame of mind to buy tickets the day before but it didn’t mean he regretted it. He packed his bag with a small smile on his face until the guy he’d been staying with, Rick, asked if he was high or something and he had to explain he was seeing an old friend.

The fact that ‘old’ was relative and that it had only been a few months since he’d seen Kent was kept to himself, which turned out to be a good thing as friend turned quickly into _’friend’_ with the annoying quotations marks and winks in his direction.

Which was closer to the truth than he was really ready to explain to his friend at that given moment. Instead he continued to pack, only stopping to check his phone, where he’d received a text message.

Kent : _Should I worry you get in first? Is this an ambush?_

His smile grew wider. He put all of his focus into just looking around and making sure he didn’t get anything stuck between the sheets of the couch bed and then underneath it. Nothing was found and he had to sit on top of his bag to get it to shut.

“You know this _friend_.” Rick laughed. “Is she expecting you to stay until Spring Training?”

Neil froze. Maybe he hadn’t thought everything through that well, but he reminded himself just how much alcohol he’d imbibed the day before. To avoid the dubious look from Rick, he lugged the bag onto the ground next to his backpack.

“No, they don’t.” He hated the pronoun game. “But I figure I’ve had enough of this snow, saw the tree and did all the crappy tourist stuff. I’ll find a month to month once I’m there.”

He didn’t get a comment back and didn’t bother to look over at him. He sat on the edge of the bed and grabbed his phone.

Neil : _Plan foiled. Maybe I’ll just meet you at your gate instead._

“Look at that smile.” Rick laughed. “You’ve got it bad. Thought I’d never see the day a girl would get you like that.”

Neil threw him a glare but couldn’t come up with a proper retort, so he decided to just remain silent. That would show him.

*

The pure nervous energy that filled his four-hour flight made Kent feel almost like he was coming out of his skin. When asked if he wanted anything to drink, for the first time in his life, he wished he could ask for something that wasn’t just a soda. He asked for water instead, caffeine not something that was going to help keep his left leg from jangling in the aisle and annoying even more people around him.

His stomach was in knots as they touched down at Sky Harbor, afraid that the first thing that Neil would see him do would be get sick in the nearest trashcan…at least he hoped he could make it to the nearest trash can. The woman beside him put her hand on his knee.

“You okay?” She sounded like she was trying to comfort him but it came out almost as flirting. “We made it through the worst part. We’ve landed.”

He forced a smile. “Th-thank you.”

She smiled back and brushed a lock of her short brown hair behind her ear. Kent would laugh if he didn’t have the manners his mom taught him. He felt completely silly, being nervous about seeing his not-boyfriend and getting hit on by a fairly attractive woman at the same time. It sounded like the beginning of a bad Lifetime movie…or maybe a porno. Though she didn’t seem like that kind of girl and he sure as heck wasn’t that kind of boy.

He tapped the tips of his fingers onto the seat rest and waited impatiently for the ding that indicated he could move about the cabin. He hadn’t brought much with him to Wapak, had only planned maybe a week long trip and had a washer and dryer at his disposal so he grabbed the small carry-on from above his seat and the backpack from the floor.

There was a line, like always, but he’d strategically sat as close to the front as possible. The flight hadn’t been packed but for some reason every single slow person on earth was directly in front of him and moving glacially. He moved inch by inch until he was probably too close for comfort with the people in front of him but he could care less.

The woman behind him was trying to start small talk but he wasn’t listening. A thrum of “please” and “faster” beat into his head, completely drowning her out. He thought about putting in headphones so that maybe he could get his point across of how little he was listening to her. But instead he just moved forward, inch by tiny inch until he saw the Promised Land.

“I hope you enjoyed your flight.” An overly perky flight attendant smiled at him. “Come back soon.”

He wasn’t even sure if he responded, just a quick nod and then he was on the gangplank making his way up at a pace that had him passing people rather rudely.

*

Kent practically sprang off the plane and Neil felt a smile spread across his face. The plane ride had felt like it was twice as long as it usually did, followed by the crazy length of time he’d had to wait just for Kent to get off the plane.

It should all add up to him feeling overwhelmed or bad but he couldn’t do it. He bounced on the balls of his feet until he caught Kent’s attention and barely had time to watch Kent’s smile before he had arms wrapped around him in a tight hug.

 _Fuck._ It felt amazing, like the first breath after being at the bottom of the pool. He had to force the two manly back pats into it because that hug felt dangerous.

“Hey,” Kent said, a little too quiet for the loud airport.

Neil’s voice sounded twice as loud when he responded. “Hey yourself.”

Neither talked as they walked to pick up bags, or as they took the first taxi they could find. They barely shut the door to Kent’s second story apartment before Kent broke the silence. “Could we just skip the awkward part?”

Neil couldn’t fight that, dropped his bag in the living room and let Kent lead him to the bedroom.

*

It wasn't like he _hadn't_ drank before, he just kept it to a minimum. He was underage and that made it illegal. Possibly it made him a little lame, but when his career depended on his health Kent was very clear that he wanted to keep his health in top shape. He wasn't going to be the type to have to take a day off for "flu-like" symptoms.

New Year's Eve, however, wasn't during the season. Wasn't even close to the beginning of spring training and if he had the common sense to just keep it to a minimum he was going to be good. Or so he kept telling himself.

They ended up at a party with guys who lived locally, teams be damned. When he was a kid he was convinced all players had to hate each other if they were on the other team, but now it was something he thought ridiculous. Yeah, there were some players that **no one** liked but that had nothing to do with their field work.

He was excited to see some of his friends but still had the small bit of fan boy when he ended up seeing the players he'd spent seasons watching show up. He hadn't known how popular Arizona was until he watched Rob Estes walk in with a huge grin and a keg over his left shoulder, his wife a few steps behind him looking like she might just be a model or maybe an actress. A few minutes later Scott Hairston entered and was met with an uproar of curse words and hugs with huge back slaps and Kent felt a little out of his depth.

Neil, apparently, did not. He was ... somewhere. Doing ... something. He wasn't entirely sure why he'd even come, but Neil told him he figured it would be just guys from Fall Ball or something. He was really wrong. He walked towards a big ice chest and grabbed the first bottle on top.

The first sip made him want to gag, the smell of beer reminded him of his dad and his uncles all seated around a table. He half remembered a time when his Uncle Vic (who wasn't really his uncle) handed him a bottle at age ten and said, "Take a sip." He'd spit it out the first time and it was really hard not to do it this time as well. But he kept going.

There were groups of people all around, in small groups and large ones. A group of players with shot glasses and quarters and he wasn't too podunk to realize just what that was going to mean, he walked away before they could offer him in. He looked towards the group on the couch, engrossed in a conversation about hockey. Which figured, he guessed, one of the few sports he didn’t know the first thing about.

When he finally found Neil it was by a pool table and the way he leaned over it made Kent's stomach do a small flop. He biffed the shot horribly but when he looked up to meet Kent's eyes there was nothing but a smile on his face.

"KENT!" Neil called out happily. "Hey, guys, this is Kent. Kent, you know these guys, right?"

Kent felt himself blush, ridiculously, but smiled as he went around and nodded at all the players that _of course_ he knew. He wasn't an idiot by any means and Neil was just playing with half the people he'd spent high school following like it was his job. When Orlando Hudson grinned at him he felt his skin jump a little.

"You on the Diamondbacks?"

"I'm, um, going to be in spring training," he practically muttered.

Orlando laughed. "You're the enemy, man. Though I got to say, Chase Field has some good memories."

"You have to forgive him for his poor choices," Neil said, his words oddly over enunciated and his hand suddenly on Kent's shoulder. "I keep trying to get him to switch teams, he just never listens."

Kent felt his eyes bug out when Neil started laughing at his own joke. He hoped, _prayed_ , that everyone was drunk enough that the double entendre would be lost. No one out right punched him though, so he inched a little further away from Neil and towards the table.

"Can I get next?" he asked.

"You play pool?" Neil asked, as if he'd admitted to speaking Mandarin.

He kept to himself the fact that his grandparents had a table in their basement and he didn't just _play_ , he did it well. He just smiled and said, "Just a little."

*

Clearly it wasn't one of Neil's finest moments, waking up face down in a blow up doll's abdomen, head pounding like his brain was trying a daring escape through his skull. But he was placated, slightly, by the sight of Kent curled around a ball, face covered in markers and lips bright red with what he suspected was lipstick. On instinct he put his hand up to wipe his lips. He was relieved to find no color on his hand.

He did, though, see the tip of lettering coming out from under his long sleeved shirt. He pushed it up and with some degree of horror saw that the only thing written was in small letters 'Kent's'. It didn't take a genius to know the handwriting but he had a sick feeling in his stomach. He stumbled upwards and across the short distance between himself and Kent, barely having to move him to see the matching 'Neil's' in his handwriting.

Besides the fact that it was so middle school it actually was nauseating, he was acutely aware of the amount of sleeping people around them.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath before he shook Kent's shoulder. "Wake up, we're leaving."

No one was up, he wasn't even sure what time it was and yet he felt like there was a ticking time bomb waiting to go off. All over two simply written words on wrists that probably no one had seen and no one would actually have reacted to. Besides, perhaps ribbing the hell out of them for being two beer queers or something. He didn't even want to think about it.

Kent grunted angrily, rolled away from him and leaving the ball to roll away. He wasn't a hard person to wake up most days, Neil almost regretted the fact that he missed seeing Kent get drunk. If he did. Which he had to assume, because no one falls asleep at a party and stays asleep with markers and lipstick applied.

"Kent," Neil repeated, a little louder and a lot less patient. "Get. Up."

Kent turned back and looked at him with one eye. A slurred, "I dun drink."

He would laugh if it weren’t so freaking endearing. "I know, I know. Now you know why. Now get up."

He helped the stumbling Kent to his feet, whose eyes went wide and panicked at the instant he stood up. Neil recognized that look and was thankful for the fact that he'd been to Montero’s house before. He put a hand on Kent's lower back and they made it to the bathroom just in time for Kent to lose whatever he had in his stomach in a few long retches. Neil had to close his eyes and think hard not to join him.

His reflection in the full mirror in front of him didn't look as bad as he had expected. His eyes were puffy, his hair was out of control (but when was it ever in control) and his cheeks were redder than usual. He waited the long moments after Kent's final go at the toilet before he took a towel and put it under the cool sink water.

Kent took it gratefully, his body braced against the wall of the bathroom and his skin whiter than usual or possibly just looking so with the messed up red lips and random drawings in dark marker. He looked from Neil to the toilet, like the toilet was the offender of this whole escapade, and then back.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, as always so genuine there wasn't time for Neil to be properly annoyed by the lack of a quick exit from the house.

Instead he waved it off. "It happens to the best of us. You're going to want to wipe your face, I think they got lipstick on you."

He'd mention the fact that his left cheek had a rather random amount of words including 'for a good time call' with an arrow pointing to his mouth. Hangovers were never something you wanted to deal with; he'd ease Kent into this one. Even with his own jittery feelings and urge to tug his sleeves down.

"That wasn't a dream?" Kent boggled, then as he wiped his mouth he seemed to have a moment of realization. He tugged up his own sleeve and looked at the word with fascination. " **That** wasn't a dream?"

Neil hedged his bets a little. "You _remember_ that part of the night?"

Kent still stared at his wrist in fascination, even as he nodded. "I thought that I was just making things up. It was... after midnight?"

*

To say he remembered the night before was actually a lie. He remembered small moments that connected and then disconnected. He wasn't lying when he said he thought parts of it were dreams. Mostly it started with the fact that after midnight, some time between his buzz hitting and just full out drunk he was sure that Neil used the word "love".

Not in the sentence, "I love you" but "I love this" which was... something. A start at the very least. He couldn't respond with anything, it wasn't like he didn't agree. That was just weird, the use of the words. The way they flowed off Neil's tongue like it was some Martian language. In his wildest dreams he hadn't expected it.

Then the markers came out, which he couldn't help but suspect was somehow Orlando's fault even if he couldn't prove it. That was when he put his hand out and grabbed Neil's wrist. Slowly taking the chance to write his name in his tidiest handwriting. It was sappy and silly but it was the closest he was going to get to any response. When Neil had responded in kind it was like everything felt warm and scary at the same time.

Even if an hour later he had become the entire team’s marker board he was sure that he couldn't take back any of it if it meant losing that single moment. Kent seemed to be the only one that felt that way. Neil kept tugging at his sleeves like he was hiding track marks or an embarrassing tattoo rather than something that meant something. It wasn't the ideal situation that Kent was looking for, to put it mildly.

"We should get out of here," Kent said, his stomach emptied and the bulk of the 'art' on his face smudged out. He had forgotten the lipstick or maybe he hadn't been exactly alert for that part of it. Even without the pulsing in his head and the way his stomach felt like it was loaded with lead he knew he wasn't drinking anytime soon. Possibly ever again.

"Good idea," Neil muttered. They made their way out of the building, taking it slow while they stepped over sleeping players like land mines.

At the kitchen table a few guys sat as they nursed cups of coffee. Kent looked down as they walked past, ignoring offers of coffee and a few chuckles at his still hungover look. He felt like a little kid, trying his best to not make a stupid comment that would make it even worse.

They got in the car and Neil wouldn't look at him. "You know we can get food."

"Could you just avoid using the f word right now," Kent groaned and put his hand over his stomach. "I think I might need a break from food for life."

"Carbs will help," Neil laughed but it didn't quite sound real. Kent ducked down in his seat. His hangover was one thing; the rest was starting to settle in. He wouldn't have thought of himself as the sap that he obviously was.

He wrote his name on Neil's wrist, like he owned him or something. Neil had done it back but with the way Neil had been acting with the alcohol in his system he probably would have said he loved anyone, would have mimicked the actions Kent used on Troy Tulowitzki had he been there.

His stomach continued to make noises of disapproval as they drove but then there was the moment Neil turned into McDonald's and he thought his stomach was going to actually escape through his mouth.

"Trust me," Neil said as he ordered a breakfast sandwich for them each and two large coffees. "Grease cures all."

Kent had his doubts but didn't trust his mouth to form around the words needed without puking. He put his hand up in half a concession. He looked away and rolled his window down to avoid the smell when the bag got in the car.

“Your place?” Neil asked and the way it came out made Kent’s throat feel instantly tight.

They drove the last few miles in complete silence and the first thought he had when they entered his division was something like, 'This is a bad idea.'

When they entered his apartment he immediately went to the open shutters and closed them. He could avoid the sunlight as much as he wanted, it was his place.

Then there was a moment when he turned and saw the outline of Neil and it almost made him stumble. He was distracted by the curve of Neil's shoulders and the defeated way he was standing in the center of the room. He didn't have to see the writing on the wall.

"So last night was a little weird," he started, voice entirely high pitched. "You don't think we could just chalk it up as a wacky adventure and forget most of it?"

Kent's eyes adjusted and he saw the way Neil looked away at the last second.

The sudden extreme nausea could not be blamed on the alcohol.

*

Neil hadn’t exactly been thinking about the consequences that was for sure. He hadn’t thought about them in the interim of meeting Kent at the airport and the invite to the New Year’s Eve party. He’d been a little busy, a lot busy actually. The few times he had alone were when he was showering up (if that) and when he was awake while Kent conked out right after sex.

But he hadn’t thought about it then because he didn’t want to. He was buzzing on a mix of adrenaline and poor thinking and really he _liked_ where he was. It wasn’t like he was crazy enough to do what he did last time. He could admit he fucked that up quite royally but since he’d woken up with Kent’s tight scrawl on his wrist his brain had gone into overdrive.

Kent shifted on his feet in front of him, had a look on his face which made him look like he was about to cry or possibly yell. Instead he pointed towards the card table that doubled as his kitchen table and sat down in a chair.

It seemed absurd to be seated in front of a McDonald’s bag and trying to think of the proper way to bring it up but that was where he was. He put his hand around his sandwich but didn’t pick it up. He watched as Kent put the coffee cup to his lips but didn’t drink. It was almost comical.

“How bout them Bills?” Kent joked and Neil almost choked on nothing, relieved for the distraction.

But then it was silent again and he knew what he had to do. “I don’t remember what exactly happened last night but I know that I let it get out of hand.”

“Well, tequila does that,” Kent obviously hedged, his hands fidgeting with his cup.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Neil said and waited for Kent to actually look up at him. “I get you want something, I can’t … give you that.”

Kent went back to his cup. “Who said I wanted something?”

Neil shoved his sleeve up, exposing the marker he was sure he wasn’t going to be able to get fully off for days. “Just a guess.”

Dead silence.

He made himself take a sip of coffee, fortification. He waited and waited until he could feel the air around him pressing down and then coughed. “I should be getting an apartment either way. Pitchers report in a few weeks. Plus I promised my brother I’d visit him. This is just what needs to be done.”

“Okay,” Kent exhaled, angrily. “You do what you need to do.”

“I guess asking for us to remain friends would make me kind of a dick right now.” Neil looked at him but was surprised to find Kent looking a little relieved.

Kent looked away but shrugged. “I guess not. Friends sounds cool. Maybe in a while, maybe I need a bit.”

Neil could feel the weight in his chest begin to lessen. “Take it. You’ve got my number.”

And he wasn’t even sure where he was going but he made the steady move to get up and pack the stuff he had in his bag and even hugged Kent before he left.

Really, it was for the best.

*

It wasn’t particularly cold, though the day before had been close to freezing. Yet running the mile-marked track had his lungs frozen and his nose running. He had gone around four times, and he was just about to start his next go when he lost control for a split second and missed a step. He felt the pressure of landing on the outside of his foot, the sudden searing pain in his calf and then the ground falling out from under him.

His vision blurred momentarily and he landed on his backside, both thankful and worried that there was no one around to watch him fall except for a handful of birds and maybe a passing car. He waited for a minute, staring down his ankle before he tested stretching out his leg, just a little, and instantly regretted it. All he could think was _pain_ and _spring training_.

He gingerly made it to where his bag was perched on a bench nearby and rifled through it until he found his phone. He pushed the number for the only person he knew was in town and then began to hold his breath.

“’Lo?” Neil slurred. “Kent?”

His chest was tight, with fear and the general ache of cold. “Neil? You sleeping?”

“I’m up,” Neil skirted the question, normally something that bothered Kent. “What’s up? Where are you? All I hear is wind.”

“I’m at Chapparal Park,” his voice was high. “I um, need your help.”

*

Talk about a way to wake up, his heart had gone from its normal beat-beat-beat rhythm to hummingbird fast in the blink of an eye.

 _Fuck_.

He knew it wasn’t life threatening, technically, but didn’t have to hear the worry in Kent’s voice to know that that’s what it could feel like. Just under a month before they report and Kent did who knows what to his leg? He didn’t bother changing, just grabbed a hooded sweatshirt over his flannel pajama bottoms and slipped into the flip flops he usually reserved for going to check the mail.

Chapparal Park was barely two miles from the motel he’d moved into but the drive felt annoyingly long. Then there were the sheer amount of trees and cars that stood in his way. He threw his car into park, not bothering to find a parking spot and instead parking in a turn about where there were clear red signs telling him not to.

He saw Kent on a bench, face screwed up in pain. It hadn’t even occurred to him until that moment that maybe he should have called an ambulance or something rational like that but he wasn’t feeling particularly rational at the moment. He jogged towards Kent, who didn’t even notice he was there until he sat down gingerly beside him.

“Hey, you okay?” he blurted out. “Wait, dumb question.”

Kent looked up at him through his squinted eyes. “I just need to get home.”

“Fuck that,” Neil retorted. “We’re getting you to a doctor.”

Before Kent could fight it Neil slipped his arm around Kent’s back, lifted him up onto his one good foot and resisted the urge to just pick him up. It was like every step was a battle and it made Neil’s stomach clench in uncomfortable ways. He kept thinking that maybe Kent would start putting pressure on it then maybe it would change. Kent seemed to have a similar thought, but each time he did he grunted uncomfortably and had to take a minute long break.

What should have been maybe a 30 second walk to the car ended up being closer to five minutes.

“We’re taking you to the ER,” Neil declared, once he got Kent in the car. Kent looked like he was resigned to that fact, his face a pale white and his eyes bloodshot. The hospital was maybe ten minutes away; Neil got them there in three.

*

An hour or so later, as the doctor went on Kent could barely pay attention. All he felt were Neil’s eyes on him, glaring at him like he’d done it on purpose. Maybe it was the sheer amount of adrenaline still buzzing in his system, the pain that the first dosage of IV pain killers had barely ebbed or the thick layer of anxiety that was choking him but he wanted, he _needed_ to scream. Just yell and holler. He had enough of a handle on himself that he didn’t start in the middle of the exam room but Neil’s glare wasn’t helping whatever control he had.

“… the thing to focus on is that there appears to be no tearing.” The doctor held up an x-ray of his leg. They’d said that two or three times and it hadn’t exactly helped those times either.

“You should be able to get back on it in about a week or so. For now, I’ll give you a script for some heavier painkillers. When you can manage it try to mix in some Tylenol 3 instead. We’ll get you some crutches for when you absolutely have to walk and another dose of the painkillers before you go. Rest, ice, compression and elevate. Any questions?”

‘ _Do I look like an idiot?_ ’ Kent didn’t point out that at his age and in his profession he got the concept of “R.I.C.E.” better than any doctor could. He managed a smile and a shake of the head.

The doctor offered his hand and first shook Kent’s hand before leaning over Neil. “You make sure he actually listens, right?”

“Will do,” Neil answered, and somehow knew to put his hand down right before Kent jumped to both feet and throttled the man. Yeah, he might look like he was young but he wasn’t a kid nor did he appreciate being treated like one.

The door shut and Kent finally looked over at Neil. “Was that guy KIDDING?”

“He’s a jack ass,” Neil shrugged. “But no need to punch him and hurt your hitting arm, too.”

Kent didn’t know whether to pout or concede the point so he moved to lay back and put his leg up. “ _R.I.C.E._ , geez. Why hadn’t I thought of that? It’s like he’s a magic voodoo doctor.”

“There’s no tear, Boyd,” Neil gritted his teeth. “You better be thanking whatever higher power you’ve got. We’ve got less than a month and you’ve got a chance.”

That knowledge, he could admit, was worth the condescending doctor, the ER’s waiting room and the stupid amount of tests. Because he hadn’t exactly been letting himself think about the ‘what-ifs’ of a tear in a ligament or even something wrong with the bone. He remembered the look on Alex’s face when he had to concede defeat the season prior and it was something he hoped to never ever have to see again, especially from the other side.

The door opened again and an unfamiliar nurse stepped in, holding a clipboard and two needles. She looked up from the board and smiled at them, pearly white teeth in an unsettling row. (Or maybe the needles were the unsettling part.) For once Kent was glad they’d put in the IV – even if he wasn’t dehydrated—as a check of his wrist band and a poke of a stick later and sweet pain relief was hitting him in a wave. He exhaled and the tension in his chest eased considerably.

She took a few notes of vitals and things around the room but Kent didn’t notice. He lay back a little on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. The bright light from before was off, thankfully, but it made him think of _Grey’s Anatomy_ for some reason.

“Have you ever had a cortisone shot before?” The nurse asked with a smile, bringing his attention back to the people in the room. Kent couldn’t help but giggle. It annoyed him less than the R.I.C.E. comment though, so he collected himself before he nodded.

“I play professional sports,” he smiled and the nurse frowned at him.

She looked down at his leg and then back up at him seriously. “Over extended use of cortisone to treat muscle strain can have a lasting effect on…”

“He isn’t a drug user,” Neil cut in. “It’s just an occupational hazard.”

“Now how tall are you?”

“Five-six,” he answered automatically.

Neil coughed. “Five- _five_.”

“Lies!” Kent turned his head but lost track of his reason to be angry mid turn. “Wow. Room moved.”

Neil smiled, and Kent noted with happiness it wasn’t his ‘making fun of you’ smile but more along the lines of ‘endeared’ smile. “You’re a lightweight, you know that?”

“Yes,” Kent nodded, perhaps a little too much and bobbed his head to his chest.

The Nurse laughed. “I’ll bring the crutches, a wheelchair and your discharge papers.”

“Thanks,” Neil called at her retreating back. He went back to the phone in his hands and totally ignored Kent.

Kent exhaled. Loudly. “Um, what are you doing?”

“You live on the second floor,” Neil muttered, and possibly the meds were totally throwing him for a loop because he had no idea why that mattered.

“… So?”

Neil flicked his eyes towards him, “I’ve got a first floor place.”

“…”

“I’ve got some guys on it. You can make a list of what you want tomorrow.”

Kent blinked. “I _want_ to go home.”

“You can’t go up and down those stairs,” Neil repeated.

“I forgot when you became my mother,” he snapped, though it was more of a slur than an actual snap. He was acting like a kid; he got that. He just wasn’t ready to concede defeat. “But I can take care of myself and I want. To go. Home.”

Neil looked at him like he was weighing his options and then shrugged and put his head back down to focus on his phone. If Kent was feeling a little more like himself he would probably take that moment to make another comment, but the comment was lost to the warm medicated feeling. His limbs were a little heavier, his eyes fighting to just keep open. It felt good.

The nurse returned and took the IV lines out. She handed him a stack of papers and a set of crutches. He tried to follow along but caught the highlights, all of which were things he’d heard a thousand times before. Neil nodded along though, which was encouraging.

He looked dismally down at the ace bandage and the ice pack as they rolled out of the room and down the hall. The whole thing was miserable and terrible and he felt like he was going to be sick.

Less than a month.

Kent called his agent from the car, then under his advisement called the team physical therapist. Neil drove him to the appointment, always the mother hen. It was something that bothered him, just a little bit but was oddly comforting. Neil ran hot or cold but the last few days seemed just warm. Like it was right and happy and Kent was definitely not willing to rock any boats.

There really wasn't much to be said about the appointment beyond what the doctors from before had already told him, except this time they put together a time sheet of appointments and routines he would have to do. It was only a few weeks until training started, just over a month. No one spoke about the fact that there was a chance he wouldn't be playing in a month. Not that the injury would need that much recovery time but really, who knew?

He spent the entire meeting slouched in a chair, feeling half his own age. He'd almost asked for Neil to come with him, but technically he was the opposition. The team doctor was nice enough but Kent was nervous and needed a friendly face, not just him, the doc and Kirk Gibson. (Who with all his great qualities was definitely not comforting.)

The car ride back to Kent's was spent with him just rehashing the details, leaving out the obviously repeated reminders to keep himself from over doing things day to day. He was pretty sure Neil was going to hover even still, he didn't need motivation. It was oddly comforting and annoying at the same time.

"When does the rehab start?" Neil asked, when they'd gotten home.

Kent bristled. "February 11th."

Neil's eyebrows furrowed. "I start the fourteenth."

"And I told you I'm capable of getting there on my own. _Jeez_."

"You know, funny thing about the Rockies and the Diamondbacks this year," Neil tossed aside the paper and walked over to where Kent was with his leg raised about above his heart. "We have exactly the same training facility."

He exhaled. "They did that conveniently I guess."

"Except I doubt I'll be able to park my car in your parking lot, we might have to use your hunk of junk."

"Can we not talk about cars? Or spring training?" Kent pleaded, skin feeling tight and leg throbbing. Whatever they’d given him at the hospital was wearing down low. "I just don't want to think about it yet."

Clearly Neil wasn't getting the picture because he started looking through the movie collection he had. Kent would laugh, but his mood wasn't one that lent itself to laughter. Instead he cleared his throat.

"I don't think I want to watch a movie, either," he tried again, slower and with what game he could pull off. Neil turned around from his DVD collection and smiled a little tentatively.

"You think you should be resting?"

Kent pointed towards his left and right. "I'm on a couch, leg up and in the moon boot from hell. You really think I can get anymore rested?"

"I can think of a few ways." Neil said under his breath, almost to himself as he walked out of the room and towards Kent’s kitchen. He settled back and let out a breath, thankful for the brief moment of reprise.

*

Against his better judgment, Neil had driven back to Kent’s apartment. He really wanted to just take him back to the sane alternative. He had a first floor place, with a lot of room to use crutches. His place was big enough for two, while Kent’s place was more or less a dive. He couldn’t blame him really, it was the first place outside of home he actually lived in but why Kent was so set on his place was beyond him.

Yet Kent seemed determined enough – even through his haze-- that Neil couldn’t seem to push the point. That was until he had to dead lift the sleeping form up the stairs and then fish through his pocket for a key. Damn Kent went with some tight running shorts.

Once he’d wrangled the boy onto the couch and lifted his leg gingerly onto a pile of pillows he went exploring. He’d known he was going to have to go to the pharmacy to pick up the medication but even a cursory look in the fridge told him that a grocery store stop was needed. The guy didn’t even have peas to use as an ice pack.

He also had to swing by his place and throw whatever was clean into a bag. He’d made the decision sometime between the x-ray and the CAT scan that he was going to be the one who was with Kent. It wasn’t like he could trust most of Kent’s friends, he’d _met_ them after all and the only one who was decent was off on some last minute finding himself trip before he got called early for pitchers and catchers to report.

He made a list on a piece of paper from Kent’s printer and took another sheet to prop up beside a glass of water on Kent’s coffee table. Not that he expected it to be that long nor for the drugs to wear off in the amount of time it would take him but he was taking Kent’s keys and figured it was the closest to polite he could manage.

His apartment was far enough away that he dropped the prescription off at the pharmacy and then stopped at his place to grab what he thought necessary. It struck him that he might still have a toothbrush at Kent’s place, probably he did, but he packed his own just in case. Clothing, DVDs, and his own pillow because he spent some good money on that damn pillow and he wasn’t going to sleep nights on cast offs. He unhooked his Wii and grabbed all his games, and his Nook to keep himself busy.

It was strange how he hadn’t quite let himself put all of it together, the fact that he was easily going back into Kent’s life _again_ , until he grabbed his batting helmet and gloves and everything hit him. He hadn’t even blinked when it came down to it. Kent called and he ran. It was shades of embarrassing he wasn’t prepared for yet.

He found himself stuck on his couch for a few long minutes, eyes half focused on the bag in his hands. It was like Kent had some sort of gravitational pull on him or something. He tried, more than once, to break free and yet any reason to come back and he was right there. He knew that meant something that he didn’t want to admit but thankfully his cell phone went off, a phone call from the pharmacy, and he was distracted again.

No time for a nervous breakdown, he had a list of shit to cover.

*

Kent woke to the sound of his front door closing. The day’s memories were a bit like Swiss cheese but the ache in his leg started to remind him just in time to see Neil walk in without causing too much shock.

“Hey.” Neil smiled. “How long have you been up?”

“Just now,” Kent croaked and reached hastily for the glass of water on the table in front of him. The sudden movement was unwelcome, and the ensuing flinch ended up spilling a fat circle of water on the table. “Crud, _sorry_.”

Neil walked back into his kitchen and came back in a minute later with a bunch of paper towels. “Dude, your house. Spill all you want.”

Which was a joke, Kent got that, but it did bring him back to the fact that he _was_ in his own house. And Neil had walked in like that was okay.

“Here’s your Vicodin,” Neil pressed the pills into one hand and wrapped Kent’s hand around the glass of water this time. When Kent just stared at him for a long moment Neil nudged the hand with the meds at him. “Come on, take them.”

“What are you doing here?”

Neil tilted his head. “You fell while running, twisted a muscle in your calf…”

“I … got all that,” Kent put the pills in his mouth and sipped slowly on the water. He thought it would give him a second to come up with a better way to phrase it but when he was done he just repeated himself. “But what are you _doing here_?”

“You called me.”

Kent had seen Neil nervous before, more than once but was pretty certain he’d never seen the shy head tilt or the inability to look Kent in his eyes. He stared for a long moment in sheer fascination.

*

Kent shifted, hiding the wince admirably. “You don’t… you don’t have to do this. Just cause the doctor thought I’m a kid…”

“I’m not doing this cause the doctor told me to.” Neil frowned at Kent. “And you’re not a kid.”

“Then why are you still here?” Kent repeated but looked genuinely curious and Neil rubbed both eyes. He didn’t have a good answer for that.

“Could you just drop it? You think you’re getting anywhere right now?”

Kent looked down forlornly at the ace wraps and shrugged.

“Exactly, now what do you want to eat?” Neil forced himself to look down at the to go menus strewn over Kent’s coffee table. “I’m thinking Pei Wei.”

Kent made an indecisive noise. “What about Zipp’s? It’s across the street and I would kill for a burger about now.”

“You would, Farm Boy…” he teased and his stomach clenched when Kent laughed at his lame joke. “Then Zipp’s it is.” Neil picked up his phone, all the while carefully looking at Kent from his peripheral view and went to look up the number. “Any requests?”

“The biggest burger you can get,” he moaned. “Bacon, avocado and … eggs.”

Neil placed the order, ignoring the impulse to make a comment about a heart attack or possibly weight gain after inactivity.

* 

Neil going to get dinner left Kent just enough time to feel the nervous energy he’d been holding back for the better part of the day. The Vicodin settled in and brought the anxiety back down to more of a slight worry in the back of his mind. Sure they’d broken up, but not for the first time. But they’d agreed to be friends, which he guessed meant they would help each other out when there were injuries. That was normal.

He was beginning to feel warm and weighted down, the pain in his calf a barely remembered problem when Neil walked back in holding a greasy and familiar bag. Kent smiled a little and Neil laughed.

“They really got you on the good stuff, don’t they?”

Kent nodded and made grabby hands at Neil, like he was a petulant little kid. Neil didn’t even bother to roll his eyes, just checked to see what was in the order and handed it over.

“I can’t believe you eat egg on your burger.” Neil’s nose wrinkled and Kent idly wondered if that had always been so dang cute or if he was just picking up on it now.

Through a bite of his burger he shrugged. “Don knock ih till you twy it.”

“I’ll just take your word.” Neil bit into a chicken sandwich and smiled. Kent couldn’t even come up with a witty retort. Instead he sipped from the water beside his couch. “What do you think about some ‘Singing in the Rain’?”

“How do people NOT know you flame like the Olympic torch?” Kent hadn’t meant to say that bit out loud but thankfully Neil just smiled.

“Maybe I save the flames for people I can trust.”

Kent felt like his smile was going to split his face, a warmth in his tummy making him want to give Neil a huge hug and ruin the moment. Instead he nodded. “Well then, please. Flame on.”

Neil laughed and Kent second-guessed a lot of his decisions in life.

*

Each time Neil woke up he found Kent had moved, which was damn frustrating if he had anything to say about it. He was supposed to be off his leg and Neil was _there_ for that reason but any time he caught a catnap or actually got some sleep he would wake up to find that Kent had somehow hobbled off to the kitchen and was seated (at least he had his foot up) or in his bedroom or the living room. No matter where he'd left him, he wasn't there.

"Are you trying to be stupid or is this just natural for you?" Neil snapped when he found Kent eating cereal in the kitchen one morning.

"I'm not broken" Kent rolled his eyes. "I was hungry."

Neil frowned. "I was four feet to your left, you couldn't shake me to ask for cereal."

"I'm. not. broken.” Kent gritted his teeth. "Stop treating me like I'm six. See the crutches? I'm fine."

"We have less than a month till we report."

"I _know_." His brows furrowed, Kent looked ridiculously young. "You think I'm not aware of that?"

Neil was going to say something self righteous, like probably point out that he was trying to help him, but something in Kent's face stopped him. He'd had injuries before, he remembered the frustration. What he'd forgotten was the first real injury, the one that makes you question everything in your life.

He sat down across from Kent and waited for a minute, weighing the options of what exactly he was supposed to say. He was 23, far too young to be some kind of sensai but he was older than Kent.

"You know," Neil softened. "You are going to spring training. This isn't life threatening or even surgery threatening."

Kent sagged a bit. "I know. I think. I just... a month out. I had a plan, I thought I was going to take this time to get myself into the game. I wasn't planning on being a charity case."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You don't have to be here," Kent said in a rush. "You know, you can just go home."

There was a moment where Neil was afraid he might laugh. A day ago he'd been thinking about the same thing. But there was just something about this stupid kid that was keeping him coming here. "Yeah, I know that. I'm not going though."

"Why not?"

'Cause you have stupid big innocent eyes and I have no idea what I'm doing here.'

"Because if I left you alone you would do something stupid and actually get injured again," he said instead. "And I want some decent competition this year."

Kent blinked at him, like maybe he'd heard the underlying words without Neil having to say them. "You still don't have to treat me like a kid."

Neil couldn't help himself, he got up and leaned over the table to give Kent a kiss. "I won't. You just have to actually act like an adult and ask for help. Okay?"

"Okay," Kent said, a small blush on his cheeks.

"Now can you go out to the couch and actually rest now?" Neil asked. "You could at least eat your cereal there. Jeez, what kind of bachelor are you?"

Kent looked at the half eaten bowl in front of him and then back up at Neil with a half smile. "Um. I'm not actually that hungry anymore. I could make it to the couch, though."

It hadn't been like he hadn't _wanted to_ do more. In the days since Kent got injuredthings had been up in the air, mostly Neil's fault but he wasn't sure what boundaries he had in front of him. He didn't want Kent to freak out and Neil couldn’t help but worry that maybe he'd just called him at a time he was needed.

Kent's smile spoke of something else.

"I'll help," he smiled back and damn, this kid was going to be the death of him. He stood up and Kent didn't fight him when he offered him his shoulder. They hobbled, a little too slow for Neil's patience but still got to the couch. The moments of figuring out how they could get Kent, with his leg up and Neil not hurting him were a little laughable.

The moment Neil and Kent kissed again, the laugh died down. It was awkwardly angled but didn't feel awkward in any other way, it felt like taking a deep breath. Familiar and warm and he pushed his lips together.

*

Physical therapy started and Neil felt more or less comfortable in his own skin. He watched Kent put his whole self into getting back up to condition before he had to report, two weeks after Neil did. It was weird, though, as they got into the rhythm of driving to the park. Together.

No one had really asked why they were doing it (except Alex, but Alex already knew) but they had a half cobbled together story about seeing each other and Neil offering his help for a place to stay. But they didn't have to use it and for some reason that just made each day passing considerably more uncomfortable.

During practice he spent most of his time wondering how Kent's physical therapy was going. When given time off he had to resist the urge to actually check on him. It was getting increasingly like he was... like he was thinking of his boyfriend. Which they had expressly said it wasn't going to be.

It wasn't supposed to be something serious. He told himself it was just the proximity, the fact that he spent most nights in Kent's bed, or at least on his couch. It would fade away when the season started, when Kent was back on his feet.

Except one day Kent walked, just plain walked to his car to meet Neil like it was nothing. He had his hands in his pockets and a silly little grin on his face. One that it took a lot of strength for Neil not to kiss directly off his face.

Neil's stomach clenched and he paused, his tote over his shoulder and a few other Diamondbacks around him. Everyone else reported on Monday, but he recognized the faces of the players he'd faced before. Felt the slightly less than accidental bump of Alex's shoulder back against his shoulder.

"Aw, sorry man," Alex grinned. "Didn't mean to catch you off guard."

Which is just exactly what he needed, another catcher pissed off at him. Even if Alex was something like fourth in a row of back ups. He knew the bullpen, knew the closeness that developed between the other catchers and pitchers. Suddenly it wasn't the cool natural thing he had been deluding himself into. The gap between them settled and they were both at the car, and then into the car and Neil's heart was beating weirdly in his chest.

"I still have to be a little careful." Kent smiled at him, totally oblivious. "But I can start training Monday. No one will know any different. I'm going to have to work with the trainer for a while longer. I'm just lucky it was a strain and not a break, between you and me that trainer is a bit of a sadist and I would rather work with him for the least amount of time possible..."

Kent continued, and Neil noted it was the first time that he had really heard Kent babble since the accident. It was odd, in retrospect, how the boy who was never able to keep himself still had been so deflated for weeks on end. It kind of had Neil's chest aching and his stomach officially curled into itself.

 _Fuck_ , he would berate himself if it wasn't for the fact he couldn't get a word in edgewise with Kent going on about the therapy and how a few other guys had joined today just to get stretched. It was a bad idea. The whole thing was a bad idea and even more importantly he was the _worst_ idea. For Kent, for himself, for everything.

He thought he'd cleared his head after the whole New Year's thing but he was obviously the kind of person who did the same thing over and over and expected a different result. What did that make him again? Oh yeah. _Crazy_. He was absolutely crazy.

It took almost back to the apartment complex for Kent to notice something seemed different, and he tilted his head towards Neil like a curious puppy. "What?"

"You can drive again," Neil said, voice weirdly calm.

"Yeah, I guess I can?" Kent didn't move.

Neil unlocked his seatbelt and took a long breath. "That's great."

He got out of the car and moved towards the apartment, the one he had a _key_ to holy hell and opened the door in a swift move. He went through the room and saw his clothes discarded on the floor, a pair of his cleats on the mat by the door. Everything spoke of two people living there.

Kent came up behind him, hovering behind him carefully. "You okay?"

'No.'

He nodded his head, moved forward to start to grab at his clothes and place them in the already full Rockies tote he still held. "I just realized I was... I can go home now. I doubt my neighbors even remember I exist but that doesn't matter."

"Neil?" Kent was still in the doorway, and if Neil heard it correctly he was probably in tears. His whole body tensed, halfway towards a sweater on the floor. "You don't have to go, you know?"

Neil closed his eyes, inhaled and continued. "Yeah, I probably should."

If Kent had anything to say to that he kept it to himself. Instead he walked past Neil's back and into his bedroom. Neil relaxed a little, for all of thirty seconds before Kent came back out with a pile of stuff from there. He couldn't look at him when he said, "Thanks."

Kent didn't respond, just walked away and with every passing second Neil felt even more like an idiot. His heart was beating erratically in his chest and the clothes he'd thrown on after his shower felt sticky with the nervous sweat he had started by running around the room.

But he'd _said_. They'd _agreed_. Then he messed everything up. It was like a ritual of sorts, Kent would do the right thing and he would do the wrong. He consoled himself with the fact that he had never ever said that he would stay. No matter what, he never said he would stay, even if maybe at times it felt like he should or that he wanted to.

He put his hands down to steady himself, a sudden feeling of vertigo. He pushed himself up onto two feet when he could and looked down at his bag. It didn't matter what he left behind. He grabbed his bag and his cleats and made a break for it. It wasn't exactly the most mature way to do it, but he wouldn't call himself brave at that moment.

He didn't lock the door, instead he put his key on the counter and closed the door. Kent could find it later, he wasn't sure he wanted to actually have to say goodbye.

*

Kent put his head down on his pillow, not even bothering to scream into it. It wasn't worth the energy. To be honest nothing felt like it was worth the energy. It was a good day, he'd been _happy_ , he thought Neil would be excited as well. No more stupid crutches or worrying.

When did it devolve into something so stupid?

The thought that maybe this was Neil's happy reaction, that he was just relieved to be rid of the duty, ran like a cold chill up his spine. They'd not talked about the future, he got that there probably wasn't a future but the outright leaving? It felt like he was getting dumped. Pretty freaking hard.

The phone in his Diamondbacks hoodie started to ring and he wasn't surprised to find Alex's stupid face grinning up at him.

"Hey," he answered, because Alex was nothing if not persistent.

"I heard the news!"

For a split second his stomach clenched but he relaxed when he realized how stupid it would be for people to find out about a relationship ending when no one knew it existed in the first place. He forced whatever happiness he had in him to his voice. "Oh yeah. I'm free. Who told you?"

"Miggy heard it from the PT guy when he was getting stretched," Alex said, accusation thick in his voice. "Thanks for making me get it third hand, by the way."

"It happened like two hours ago, Wong." he rolled from where he'd been uncomfortable on his side and moved to his back to watch the ceiling fan spin. "When did you get to be such a diva?"

There was a pause and then a distant knocking on his front door. "Open up, bitch."

It wasn't like he could pretend he wasn't home. His car was in its spot, where else would he be? He contemplated faking being somewhere else. Instead he groaned, rolled over and made his way to the door. He avoided looking at the empty spaces where Neil used to be. "I could just leave you out there."

"But you won't."

Stupid manners; he opened the door. Alex had a stupid grin on his face and a bag of takeout in his hand. He winked at Kent. "After your New Year's Extravaganza I spared you the beer."

"Thanks," Kent smiled ruefully. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a shiny key and just swiped it off the counter as Alex walked in far enough to see it. He wasn't sure if he was making it up or if it really did still feel warm in his hand. He refused to think how close it might have been or how he would have explained the way Neil was practically running away from the building.

Alex ignored the fact that Kent was rather rooted in his place, hand deep in his pocket and holding on to the key like it was the most important thing he owned. Alex walked over to the fridge, opened it and let his eyes go comically wide.

"Kent Boyd, you got something you aren't telling me?"

Kent flinched. "What?"

"There is _food_ in this fridge," Alex looked around, grabbing out a gallon of milk from the last trip to the grocery store. "Like grown up food. And the milk isn't bad. Did you go all Hollywood and hire an assistant. You aren't Jeter, you know that right?"

He relaxed inch by inch and tried for a smile. "Oh yeah. I've got an assistant and Cameron Diaz. Or better yet, a house elf. Oh wait, this isn't magic. It's called an apartment, and it wasn't like I was really able to get around that much. I'd go to the grocery store and stock up."

Alex rolled his eyes and went through the cabinets like he owned the place. Once he found a glass he filled it to the brim with milk and took a long swig. "You think I can get a house elf?"

"You need a girlfriend," Kent started to tease but the stupid meaning behind the words made his stomach twist. He stopped twisting the key in his pocket and looked away from where Alex was. "Or you could just have Momma Wong move in with you."

"Don't even joke, man.” Alex handed him a glass of milk and Kent opened one of the boxes. "I miss the cooking and the laundry but I'm pretty sure I'm good with just visiting."

Without knowing it, Alex was just what Kent needed. He turned his head and looked towards the living room. "Movie?"

"You are lame at celebrating."

“You’re just lame.”

Alex smiled and shoved his shoulder. “I know you are but what am I?”

*

Neil spent the better part of the rest of Spring Training avoiding the hell out of Kent. Not exactly rocket science, it just required walking the long way when he went to his car sometimes and spending a little more time with teammates he didn’t generally enjoy spending time with.

There were the games, it felt like every other series was against the damn Diamondbacks, but even then he was pretty adept at keeping to himself. He was a back up, rarely called to play and he knew he wasn’t imagining that Kent was avoiding him as well.

But what started as a defense mechanism against one player turned into an entire team pitted against him rather quickly. He’d thought, in blind terror, that Kent had said something about them. Had admitted the whole thing and that he was now out without a choice. Not that Neil could ever see him doing that, even in his worst moments Kent was a good guy. It was one of the things Neil liked about him and hated now that they weren’t dating anymore.

It seemed intuitive, the team closed ranks in on Kent and the worst part was that Neil couldn’t entirely blame him. Kent did look a little like a kicked puppy during the games, when Neil let himself look. He wasn’t his usual self and even more wasn’t celebrating his luck on the field. The way he was playing, the Diamondbacks would be dumb not to grab him up through their ranks.

The teams had a natural ribbing rivalry, not necessarily as bad as their fans had but definitely not one of shiny happy feelings. He guessed it had something to do with proximity breeding animosity, or that pennant race a few years back.

Either way, there was definitely competition that was more than with most teams. (Possibly second with the Dodgers.) But then again, in the past they had an ability to be amicable and now he felt like he could feel the other team playing a little rougher on him than other people. He wondered if they even realized they were doing it.

When Spring Training ended and it was on to the season he was relieved to a point of sagging. He packed up his month to month, put it into the bed of the truck he rented and drove to Colorado as fast as he could. Arizona had too many memories for him to want to look back upon. Especially when he heard that they’d optioned Kent up to the Diamondbacks.

He couldn’t get away from the city fast enough.

Of course that didn’t mean that they didn’t play each other. The first time in Colorado was probably a lot easier for him to deal with. It was home territory, after all, and the other team seemed to play it pretty tame. Except for the occasional razzing calls from behind home plate, and surely he should get some camaraderie there but no such luck. Whether Montero, Hester or worse yet Wong, he had jibes called at him every time. He would say something, but he wasn’t a pussy. He could take their name-calling and insults to his heritage.

But a month later, on the Diamondbacks turf it felt entirely different. He felt on edge and not just because if he got a hit he was running straight towards Kent, it was just like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“Hey, Haskell,” Miggy called after he missed a pretty straightforward throw. “You sure you aren’t afraid of hitting a ball and having to face Kent, are you?”

He let it go. Breathed deeply, and watch as Ball One passed him by.

“Cause I remember you guys were pretty good friends,” Miggy continued. Neil didn’t look to the ref. “Now you can’t look at him? What’d he do, break your heart?”

Something in his chest broke, but he didn’t think it was his heart. It made his skin boil, his face hurt from the scowl he had on. He turned towards Montero. “What did you just say?”

“Just saying,” Miggy lifted his mask and got up from his crouch. “He doesn’t hate anyone and he hates you. What does that say about you?”

*

Kent saw it in slow motion, standing stock still at first base. After years of going automatically towards a ball that came towards him he was sure that if a line ball hit him in the face he wouldn’t notice. Neil had had the look on his face that Kent knew, he just _knew_ , meant something was going on but he couldn’t hear it.

It was weird to be so close and yet so far away, to want to defend Neil who played for a team he was supposed to be against at the moment. The third time Neil turned to Miguel there was just something in his stance that made every single hair on Kent’s body stand on end and like he was watching himself in a movie, he was running towards home plate just before the fight started.

Barry Enright made it first, just a few feet closer than Kent was, trying to separate them. It wasn’t the first fight he’d seen but for some reason Kent’s adrenaline was pumping harder than before. He made it to Neil and put his arms around his stomach, pulled back with every ounce of strength he had in his body.

There was nothing he could say, he had no idea what was going on in the first place but he found himself screaming, “Back off, Haskell. Back down.”

For a split second he thought it might have worked, actually, when Neil paused to look back at him. Maybe it was just a moment of wishful thinking but Kent thought for a second he saw him again, like months before. That moment was shattered by a look of disgust.

“Back off, you _fag_.”

“Neil?” Kent recoiled, stomach instantly tightening like he might throw up.

Just as Kent got far enough away Neil turned to punch the nearest Diamondback straight in the jaw. Then the umpires had their hands around Neil as if he were a convict and Kent was expected to go back to where he was supposed to be.

If asked later he wouldn’t be able to tell a single detail of the rest of the game.

*

When he looked back, Neil saw it as a series of moments. The moment the fight began, the white-hot heat behind his eyes as he charged back at Miggy. The moment where his fist made contact with first guy (who knew who it was, the pitcher?) and the pain that came with the retaliation. Kent’s face, those damn blue eyes popping into his line of sight, so genuine and pleading and he saw Kent’s mouth form his name rather than heard it through the din of angry yelling.

The moment he said it; the recoil from Kent, almost like his fist had contacted his solar plexus. The moment he wanted to take back even if he wouldn’t say it at all. It was there, right freaking there. All he had to do was close his eyes. So he didn’t. Not when the Skipper was reaming him out nor when he finally connected the words “fine” and “suspension”. He just stared straightforward and nodded, over and over again.

He didn’t think about his face on the bus to the airport, or on the airplane when all the guys were looking at him like he was three seconds from screaming. Hell, he was three seconds from screaming. Damn them all.

By the time he thought to turn his cell phone back on he had about a dozen messages, varying from his mother’s disappointment to some of his friends telling him they had it on DVR if he wanted to see it. He didn’t want to see it.

None of the messages were from Kent, not that that should shock him. It wasn’t like they’d been on speaking terms before it happened and he really doubted that would be the initiator of a peace treaty or anything. Instead he just pressed delete and shut his phone off. Didn’t even bother trying to watch TV, too many landmines.

He turned his CD player on and let himself wallow in Jimmy Eat World’s “23”.

*

Kent knew that he was being paranoid, but he felt the eyes on his back as he stumbled through the after game rituals. He took the shortest shower in recent memory, toweled off and put on his jeans and a T. He listened as the ‘instigators’ were called one by one into the main office. The group had already been yelled at collectively, not only for the fight but also for the loss at such a key part of the season. He’d half listened.

His car felt claustrophobic, so he put down the windows and tried his best to drown out thoughts with the loudest music his iPod had to offer. He felt a horrible pang of guilt passing by the group of people waiting on signatures, but drove past as fast as he could.

The streets around Chase were clogged and weirdly laid out, so he couldn’t speed away for long. He blindly followed the cops directing him left or right, knowing that eventually he’d have to get to a street that would somewhere. It wasn’t like he wanted to go home. He just wanted to _go_ , period.

Neil’s voice was a little too fresh in his memory, the word a weighted poison on his brain. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard that word throughout his life. The boy from a small town who lived for dance and baseball, how could he not? He thought he had a decent enough layer of protection for the way it could sting. He wasn’t a kid. But the look of disgust on Neil’s face when he spit it out took the word to a whole different context. It wasn’t just a stupid bigot using a term out of ignorance. It was someone that Kent trusted -- _loved_ \-- brandishing it like a sword.

It was meant to cut him down and the mission was successful.

His right calf ached, but he couldn’t be sure if that was just a phantom pain or psychosomatic. He rubbed at it in vain, never lifting it off the accelerator. He’d finally broken free of the maze that was downtown and was on the highway. Somehow he’d found the highway he needed, probably by rote and was breaking speed limits to get himself going nowhere.

The road blurred in front of him and it took him lifting a hand to his face to realize he was crying. _Dang it_.

He couldn’t bring himself to go back to his apartment, couldn’t call his mom, couldn’t even think of a place to go. He just let his car drive.

Alex wasn’t surprised though, when he showed up at his door. He had pizza and soda like Kent had called ahead and if he noticed the puffy redness that had to be in his eyes he didn’t say a thing.

The phone call had been entirely Alex’s doing and Kent regretted it from the moment he picked up his cell phone and doubly so when he hung up. He’d sounded like a little kid. He _felt_ like a little kid. But Alex insisted that he needed to make himself clear. It was nights like that he wished he drank, just to ease the aching feeling in his chest.

Instead they played Madden until they both sacked out on the couch. It wasn’t the best sleeping arrangement and when he woke up he knew that he was going to regret it when he got to the field to do warm ups. By the looks of it, though, he wouldn’t be the only one. Alex had fallen asleep sitting up, his head lulled back against the couch and he looked about as uncomfortable as Kent had been curled on his side.

“You ready to get back out on the field and show those trolley-dodgers what’s what?” Alex asked, surprisingly cheery even if he was rolling his neck back and forth.

Kent pasted on a smile. “Better hope so. Though if they start tossing that beach ball I say we hit it out of the park.”

“No complaints here.” He smiled. “First, though, food. We don’t have to be at Chase for another four hours and I’m thinking we need to tank up on some protein. Before that, you bathe. You stink, man.”

Kent blushed. “Way to make a guy feel good about himself, jeez.”

“I speak only the truth.” Alex held up three fingers.

“That’s the girl scouts.” Kent laughed, turning towards his bathroom and ignoring when a pillow hit him in the center of his back.

Kent found that the shower was a bad place, as it left him alone with his thoughts. He ran through the phone call the night before. The way that Neil’s voice sounded slurred and tired and how it had taken all his will power not to ask if he was okay or if he needed Kent to help him. It was stupid, he knew, to want to fix the problems of a guy who obviously thought of him as a mistake, but it didn’t change his stupid feelings.

He ducked his head under the just barely too hot water and shook his head back and forth. He’d made a promise to himself early on that when it came to his sexuality and his job he wouldn’t let one affect the other. He wasn’t going to jump out of the closet, his family for one would probably not take it in a good way, but he wouldn’t let himself stay a bitter closet-case either. He was going to try and keep it to himself mostly, put relationships on the back burner until the time was right.

He hated that it hadn’t even taken a full year for him to break that promise to himself. Hated that he’d let himself get caught up in something that was obviously what bad Lifetime movies were made of. The boy who fell in love with an emotionally unavailable boy and was left broken hearted—though he doubted he would get the neatly tied up with a bow happy ending. It was all just silly and not him.

There was a knock on his bathroom door and he heard Alex call out, “You can’t drown in the shower, there isn’t any good back up first baseman.”

Which was an out and out lie. Ryan Roberts could play pretty much any position and run circles around him in doing so, but the water was getting cold either way and he knew that no matter how much he wanted to just stay and mope it wouldn’t change the facts. He turned the shower off and stepped out. He wrapped a towel around his head and rubbed at his hair.

“Alright, alright,” he called out loud enough for Alex to hear. “Just give me ten to get dressed and I’ll be ready to go.”

Alex patted the door once more. “Don’t worry, it won’t take ten minutes for you to pretty up.”

He glared daggers at the wood that separated them. Even if Alex couldn’t see him, it made him feel oddly better.

*

Neil’s agent called him the next morning, desperately going for spin control. Neil, who hadn’t slept well the night before, was amazed when he got through the entire conversation without yelling or hanging up. The league suspended him for six games, meaning the next series against the Dodgers and then the Mariners. Both were home field, but he was informed that he was not allowed in the stadium for them.

There would be a press release regarding his deep apologies for participating (‘not instigating’, his agent insisted) in violence on the field. He would be taking his suspension as a time for soul searching or some such bull. He could care less what the press release said, it didn’t leave him any less accountable.

The knowledge of which did a grand total of crap for him. He did his workouts at the gym in his condo complex; he went for long runs. He did all the things that he thought he should be doing. He’d never thought he was going to be the type to jump at his phone ringing, not since his call up to the majors at least. But he did, over the next few days, in some sort of blind faith that Kent would call him. Like a fucking teenager, he waited without hope.

When his phone did ring, it was his mother or his agent or the manager or a reporter. He would answer with as much interest as he could muster – saving the most for his mother – and told all the reporters he had no comment. That was mostly the truth, though every once in a while he wanted to just tell them a little too much. Damn the consequences. Thankfully he was usually able to rein that back.

On the third day of his suspension he decided to hell with it and busted out a good bottle of rum. He had the game on the television, only half paying attention to his team getting trounced by the boys in blue. He started with Rum and Coke, then another, and finally gave up the ghost and the Coke. He wasn’t a lightweight by any means but by the bottom of the fifth he was fairly buzzed.

Then his phone started to play the beginning of ‘My Name is Jonas’, a ringer he hadn’t exactly thought he’d hear again. There were things he would have thought immediately had he been more alert, instead his thoughts were on a ten second delay. Meaning the thought that maybe he _shouldn’t_ answer the phone didn’t occur to him until he had it to his ear.

“Kent,” he exhaled shakily.

There was silence, prolonged to an almost painful length. If it weren’t for the familiar sound of Kent’s breathing Neil might have assumed he’d been hung up on. His fingers twitched around the phone, tightening and relaxing in turns as he waited for something, for _anything_. He half expected a ranting tirade to come, but it didn’t.

When he finally did hear something it was a long release of air. “This isn’t worth it to me.”

“What?”

“This,” Kent cleared his throat. Neil almost thought he could hear someone in the background egging him on. “This hatred, this anger. I can’t… _focus_. I’m already on shaky ground and you are taking what little I have and you are _messing me up_. And it isn’t worth it to me. I’m… I’m _mad_.”

Neil breathed in. “Kent.”

“No. I just. _No._ ”Kent’s voice was thin and tired. “What did I do? Can you tell me that? What did I do? I thought… I’m stupid, right? Stupid Farm Boy. I thought that I was the one who was supposed to be closed-minded and self-loathing. Well… I um. I just wanted you to know that we are over. If we started, I mean.”

Neil opened his mouth to say something else, even if he had no idea what it would be but the sudden dead silence made it clear that the topic was closed. _Fuck_. He put his cell phone back down beside him and stared at it again. He debated calling Kent back but it was futile. He took a sip of his rum and sighed. What the hell was he thinking?

*

Kent was… well. Off. He guessed he could blame it on the afternoon game, something he was still not entirely used to, but that was an outright lie.

He couldn’t focus on the normal everyday things that he took for granted. He was hurt and angry and so freaking tired that he spent most of his free time on his back in his bed looking up at the ceiling. He felt like a complete idiot.

He’d thought that maybe the phone call would help him at least close that chapter in his life but as usual he was wrong. It didn’t make him feel any better. He could feel the hollow feeling in his stomach grow just a little bit bigger, the ache in his chest grow in painful proportions.

Alex called him three times in the span of ten minutes and he knew there was no stopping his best friend except to answer.

“Where did you go after the game?” Alex demanded by way of a greeting. “I turned around and you were out the door. Did you even shower? Or are you aiming for Stephen Drew off-season mountain man? I hate to break it to you but even if you don’t shave for a month you can’t reach that guy’s status.”

Kent focused on a patch of floor that was just barely a different hue than the rest of the place. Funny how he’d been living there for six months and it was something he just noticed. He made a non-committal noise and said, “Just needed some air. Figured I’d make a break for it before the next motivational meeting.”

Alex laughed. “You missed a good one today. Apparently? We’re supposed to score more runs than the other guys.”

Kent smiled. “I think I’ve heard of that theory before.”

“Don’t tell the coaching staff. They think they invented it.”

“I’ll keep it to myself.” Kent tried for an amused tone but fell flat. “Did I miss any other pearls of wisdom?”

Alex sighed. “Just the usual. We need to learn to work together, synergy and all that good stuff.”

Kent pulled at a loose string on his shirt idly, first wrapping it around his finger till the tip turned purple and then relaxing long enough for the color to come back before repeating the process. “Anyone other than you notice I was gone?”

“Don’t know. Wouldn’t surprise me if they didn’t. You’re usually pretty quiet in those meetings. Now, what’s up?”

The string he had in his hand unraveled and went back down to hang from his ratty t-shirt. “What do you mean?”

“Something’s up,” Alex stated. “So we have two options. You tell me and I let it go or you don’t tell me and I get you drunk enough to tell me. You choose.”

Kent sighed. “I don’t drink.”

“Well, then, I’ll call your mom.”

Which coming from anyone else would be a totally idle threat, but not Alex. So he closed his eyes and tried to ignore the sinking feeling of guilt. “What would you say if I told you that Neil and I were more than … um. Friends?”

“I’d say ‘duh’.”

“You. _Alex_. You didn’t know that.”

Alex laughed. “ _Kent_. I’d be surprised if settlers on Mars didn’t see it.”

For the first time in days his stomach clenched out of sheer fear. “No way. I was that obvious? You don’t think that like my _mom_ could see? I mean. Or what about the coaching staff? Or the team? Why didn’t you tell me you knew? What if…”

“Breathe,” Alex broke into his rambles. “Jesus, man. It isn’t that big of a deal.”

“That big of a deal?” Kent squawked. His chest felt like someone was pressing on it. “You don’t know my family. I don’t … I can’t _be_ … People could see it?”

“ _I_ could see it. I was just kidding about the other people.”

“So you haven’t heard about it from other people?” he asked, a bit desperate.

“No, I haven’t,” Alex stated firmly. “But I’m going to guess it didn’t end well.”

The feeling in his chest eased slightly, but his stomach stayed tightly clenched. “You could say that.”

He felt a little like he was in a confessional, unable to see the look on his friend’s face as he started to tell the long story of just what had been happening. A part of him thought he should keep parts of it back, but once he started he couldn’t seem to stop. He went back to fall league. The crush he had and the amazement when Neil _liked him back_. The messed up almost break up, the unspoken rules and New Year’s Eve.

Alex already knew that he’d stayed with Neil during his calf injury but not the actual reason why. Neil stayed with him. He told him about the fights, the fallout. He didn’t want to tell the last bit, the hope that maybe it wouldn’t feel real if he kept it to himself but he got how stupid that was. He stuttered over _the word_ and the look on Neil’s face. When he was done he had to take a few deep breaths, not aware that he’d forgotten to breathe for most of it.

“He called you _what_?”

Kent couldn’t bring himself to repeat it. “You know, he called me … _that_.”

“And you didn’t deck him? We were in the middle of a fight on field, you could have totally gotten away with it.”

“The umps already had it under control,” Kent lied. “I just… wanted to get away from it.”

Alex let out a long sigh. “What a fucking tool.”

Despite himself, Kent laughed.

“No seriously, Kent. The guy has to be a fucking tool.”

“We weren’t anything.”

“Yeah, you kind of were,” Alex disputed. “And even if you weren’t, that doesn’t make what he did on the field even slightly okay. Even if you were just friends, acquaintances, hell even if you were strangers in the night you don’t use that word like that. Read me, Boyd: the guy is a total tool.”

It was supposed to make him feel better; he got that. It was the thing friends said. All it really did was make him feel nothing at all. He exhaled. Put a hand to the back of his neck and tried to think of a way to jump topics.

“You think we’ve got a chance against the Dodgers?”

“About as much as we’ve had with anyone else,” Alex paused. “Don’t think this is getting you out of talking about it, you ain’t that smooth, Ohio.”

Kent knew that. “Well, you can’t fault me for hoping? Either way, it’s pretty much over.”

“Yeah, cause we only see the Rockies about forty times a year.”

“You aren’t helping, Alex.”

“That’s not my job,” he retorted. “Now, I’m going to be there in a half hour and we’re going to have a genuine talk.”

He heard the phone go dead before he could add, “Oh, goody.”

*

The next day Neil almost thought he’d made the call up, except for the fact that his cell phone’s call log told him differently. He ate breakfast and went for his normal run, even if he wanted to puke. He cleaned up his already pretty immaculate apartment, called his parents to check in – and apologize once again to his mother for his ‘inappropriate behavior’. All the while he found himself looking back at his phone and wondering just what excuse he could make up to call Kent back.

_I just wanted you to know that we are over. If we started, I mean._

It was about that time he realized couldn’t blame the stomachache entirely on the booze.

In the past he’d made some pretty epic fuck ups. So to say this was the biggest fuck up in recent memory was actually saying something. To make matters worse he had no one to talk to about it, which was entirely his own fault. He’d been so wrapped up in keeping it a secret that he hadn’t seen past the fact that he kept it entirely to himself.

He wondered if that was one of the downfalls. Beyond his major mess up, the writing had been on the wall. The thing was, to have a downfall it needed to be a relationship and it hadn’t been one. It hadn’t been anything. They’d made that a rule, or maybe he’d made that a rule. The details were a bit fuzzy and would be so even if he weren’t feeling like his head was filled with cotton.

It just _felt_ like a break up. A horrible gut wrenching break up that he was really trying to get out of his brain and failing miserably at.

He still had two days left of his suspension; he needed to get his head back in the game.

*

To: Alex Wong  
From : Neil Haskell  
Subject: Kent

Alex,

So I fucked up. Pretty hard core. And if we’re going to be honest I have no chance in hell of getting anywhere with Kent. But here’s the thing. I want to. I’ve spent the better part of three weeks trying to figure this out but I guess the best I’m going to come up with is, I fucked up. And if I have any hope of talking to him I’m guessing you’re my best bet.

Neil

To: Neil Haskell  
From: Alex Wong  
Subject: RE: Kent

What the fuck makes you think I’d do anything to help you?

Fuck off,  
Alex

To: Alex Wong  
From: Neil Haskell  
Subject: Re: Re: Kent

Alex,

Nothing. But I am hoping you might give an inch and see that I’m trying?

Neil

To: Neil Haskell  
From: Alex Wong  
Subject: Oh yeah

Yeah, sending me an email must be really hard. I can see that.

Fuck off and die,  
Alex

Neil might have slammed his computer down a little harder than necessary, which made his roommate look at him with an annoyed glare. He shrugged it off, half apologized and grabbed for his nearest hoodie. Yeah it was summer in San Francisco but he contended that the nighttime in Giants territory was too far cold for him.

He slipped on his flip-flops and made sure his phone was in his pocket. He knew the Diamondbacks schedule probably a bit _too well_ and they had the day off. That and Alex’s quick email response made him pretty sure he could find Alex by himself.

He couldn’t even remember why he kept Alex’s number in his phone. It wasn’t like he talked to him that much even when they played together, but he wasn’t looking the gift horse in the mouth and he needed this.

It rang once, twice and was just going towards the third ring when it clicked over. There was a silence, Neil hoped he wasn’t being hung up on or sent to voice mail but after a bit Alex cleared his throat.

“You are freaking lucky man, cause twenty minutes ago and you would have been calling me with Kent around.”

Neil didn’t really feel like that was lucky, but he didn’t say that. “Okay. What is it going to take from me to get you to at least give me a chance? I’m not much of a groveler but I’ll grovel. Or maybe plead? I’m a state away; I can’t fly out for a week and we’ll be playing _you_. Give me something.”

“Why are you seeking my redemption, man?” Alex sounded like he was aiming for casual but the anger was still clear. “Try this on Kent.”

“Kent won’t take my calls, ignores my emails and the one text I’ve gotten from him was asking if I could stop contacting him. I’m not guessing he’s willing to even give me a half a chance right now. You’re my only hope.”

Alex sighed. “You call me Obi-Wan and I kick your ass.”

Despite the mood he was in, Neil laughed. “I won’t.”

“He’s miserable,” Alex said, voice tense. “And you are the one who made him miserable, so don’t ask me for a forgiving mood. _If_ I do anything here it’s going to be entirely for my friend, not for you.”

“Understood?” he tried, unable to muster anything besides a bit of hope.

There was another long pause. “If I do anything to fix this and you fuck it up, I might actually have to hurt you. One catcher to another, you know we can figure out ways to make it look like an accident.”

*

Kent was sure that there was something going on with Alex but he couldn’t place it, and beyond that he wasn’t up to playing detective to his friend’s randomness. If it got Alex off his back to just ‘cheer up, emo kid’ he would be fine with it. He wasn’t moping, exactly; he was just tired.

He meant to ask the team doctor if there was anything he could do at night because he was having trouble sleeping and his muscles always felt tight. It was his first full season as a major leaguer—which was bizarre enough—of course he was having some troubles with the transition. It was normal.

Alex should be in his corner, he thought, and in some ways he was. He took him out to get him actually edible food while on the road and made sure that Kurt didn’t spend all of his free time with his Wii or his PS3, which was nice of him but not necessary. He had practiced everyday, stretched; it wasn’t like he was in his boxers watching infomercials.

When he broached the topic with his friend he was given a vague answer about letting him have a break before going back into the dating scene that smelled like the farm right after fertilizer.

“No, really.” Kent frowned. “You’ve been treating me like a nine year old for about a week.”

Alex fixed him with a glare and a sigh. “Look, I tried the getting you out of the house, tried to get you to talk and nothing works. So really? Last ditch here.”

“Okay,” Kent sighed.

*

If he were completely honest with himself, Neil was entirely shocked when a few days after he called Alex he got a call back. Their last call was a well contained mess and though he thought it went okay he figured that he was pretty much on his own when it came to talking to Kent again.

But his phone started ‘I am the Walrus’, his general ringer, and he saw the name and the recognizably stupid Facebook photo and he let it ring two more times before he answered.

“Alex?”

With no preamble Alex’s voice sounded extremely serious. “So, what exactly is your master plan here?”

There was a long pause, because his long-term plans had pretty much ended with calling Alex a few days ago. He’d spent the interim thinking of even more outlandish ideas that were impossible or completely insane. (He’d thought of paying off the Diamondbacks’ video board to read “ _Kent, just freaking call me already. –Neil_ ”, he was getting pretty desperate.)

“You’ve got no plans,” Alex sighed. “Jesus, Haskell. You’re a freaking pain in the ass.”

Neil wiped at his face with his free hand. “Thanks.”

“Listen,” Alex sighed into the line. “I’m only doing this because I can’t bring myself to deal with Kent moping anymore. I was serious about making it hurt if you hurt him again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Another long pause and then Alex exhaled. “So listen up and listen good…”

A week later found Neil’s hands rested on the tops of his knees, his fingers beating out the rhythm of the pop radio in the next room. He really hadn’t thought the whole thing through, but Alex had seemed adamant.

He almost started to hum the song but the door opened and stopped him. He’d thought he might have more time to think about what the hell he was going to say but he hadn’t. Kent looked just as dumbstruck as he felt though, which he guessed was better than it could be.

Kent held onto the door handle for a comically long moment before he dropped it and looked around the room. “So… Alex isn’t here?”

“He went to the gym.” _To avoid this awkwardness_ was heavily implied.

Neil watched as Kent fidgeted with his jeans pockets and shifted back and forth on his feet. The familiarity in the simple jittery display of energy was comforting and painful. He got to his feet and realized that the distance between the chair and the door wasn’t that large, or possibly he’d moved forward too much… either way Kent was _right there_ and Neil swore he could feel Kent’s warm skin inches from him.

“What are you doing here?” Kent broke into his thoughts. Neil took a half step back.

“I suppose apologizing would be the best answer but I can’t figure out which thing to apologize for first.”

Kent’s arms crossed his chest and he puffed up a little, making Neil want to shrink back down into the chair, but he held his ground. “Apologizing could be okay.”

“You think you could give me a second?” Neil moved, inched towards the small free space between the beds.

“You’ve had two months.”

He had a point. Actually, he’d had longer than that. He’d had close to a year to come up with an apology for hurting Kent; pretty much from the moment he met him. It hadn’t been fair to play the game with him, yet he had, and he guessed he was paying for that.

Which was something he wasn’t going to say. Instead he put a hand up towards his hairline and nodded like Kent had asked a question rather than made a declarative statement. Neil coughed. “Talk about how big of a fuck up I am if it requires months of build up for the apology, right?”

It didn’t earn him a laugh.

“I’m guessing simple is a start. I’m sorry? I didn’t even mean it when I said it, and I hate the word. Man I fucking hate that word, and I guess that’s why I used it? I was pissed at myself for how I was handling everything and I lashed out at pretty much everyone. You can ask my accountant by the way, how well that turned out for me…”

Neil laughed awkwardly, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck and trying to not look at the unfamiliar stillness of Kent’s body language.

“I spent the time I was supposed to be coming up with reasons to apologize to the team and to the fans thinking about how much I’d screwed everything up with you. It was kind of amazing how Technicolor my brain got the more days away from the moment. I remembered everything and mostly I don’t regret punching Enright, because he was being a jackass and I don’t regret going after Montero because he’d been going after me the whole game but I can say with all honesty I’ve never regretted anything in my life more than what I did to you.

“If you couldn’t tell, I’m not one for intimacy. I would play it up as a defense thing but that’s just psych-bull. I like to screw around, I don’t like to think about the consequences and usually I don’t even like to think about a second date, or a first one come to think of it.

“But you… you were…” Neil cut himself off before he said the word ‘different’ because even he wasn’t that cliché and lame. He had to swallow and think before he went on. “You talk like you literally stepped off a TV show from the fifties, you’ve got talent like you’ve been playing for a decade, and you just look like you’re happy. All the time. It actually freaked me out, not gonna lie. And we went on a quasi date and I wanted a real one and _fuck_. That really really freaked me out. So everything was scary and new for me, maybe even more than it was for you? I just didn’t know it and I messed it all up. Cause that’s what I do. I screw things. Do you see what I mean?”

Neil finally looked at Kent, who didn’t have a smile on his face and whose wide eyes made him look young and made Neil feel like the world’s biggest tool. Kent blinked. “That was supposed to be your apology?”

“Yes?”

At that, Kent laughed. Neil didn’t know if it was manic or just the shock of moving again but a weak giggle morphed into clumsy heaving laughter.

“You’re like…. Really bad at apologizing, Neil. Like _really_ bad. I thought I was bad. Jeez. That didn’t even make sense and you … I think you even blamed me a little in it? And told me I freaked you out? I’m sure that isn’t in the apology guidelines. “

“What, you want me on my knees or something?” If he’d meant it to sound bitter he fell flat on his face. It wasn’t even dirty, though he could probably play it off that way. Instead he had the sick feeling that it gave away what was left of his cards. The fact that if Kent asked, if Neil even _thought_ that it could work he would do it. Get on his knees and beg; unsure of what he was begging for.

“That’s not needed,” Kent exhaled. “Apology accepted.”

Neil startled. “… accepted?”

“Yeah. Accepted.”

If the look on his face was meant to convey that, Neil shuddered to think what a refusal would have looked like. It was meant to make him feel better, or that was what he told himself on the drive to the hotel, but it fell short of expectation. That was his problem, though, and it was obvious by the set of Kent’s jaw that his problems weren’t Kent’s at all.

Neil felt a little off kilter, like Kent had tilted the room while he wasn’t paying attention so it took a moment for him to steady himself enough to turn away.

“I’m really sorry,” he tried, one last time. He looked back to find Kent completely turned away, his back a straight line. The door was almost completely shut but it didn’t make a noise when he slipped his hand on the handle and swung it open.

He walked through the hotel hallway and then aimed towards his car but when he got home he couldn’t quite remember how he got there. And he still had a game the next day, _Fuck_.

*

By the time Alex got back to the room Kent had probably tread an inch deep hole in the carpet. The door opened and he pounced, all jittery energy and righteous indignation.

“YOU LET HIM INTO OUR ROOM?”

Alex had the sense to look abashed, hands tucked into his hoodie. “Come on, it had to happen sometime.”

“That’s your excuse? That… that is what you’re going with?” Kent stuttered. “You… you let him into our room. I was ambushed and he was all… him. Tall and distracting and _in my room_. I thought I was having a dream or like a nightmare? I had no. No time.”

Alex threw his workout bag onto the closest bed with a prolonged sigh. “So it went well?”

“Gangbusters.” Kent sighed and gave up on attempting any anger towards his best friend. It was a pretty futile game, he was bad at anger on his best days. Instead he flopped himself on the empty bed and stared up at the popcorn ceiling. “He kind of apologized and I kind of accepted.”

Alex flopped down beside him. “Kind of? You _kind of_ accepted. I’m sorry, I’m going to have to ask for clarification on that gem.”

Kent summarized, or at least tried to. But it wasn’t like he could put into words how seeing Neil melting down actually felt. It was weird how he’d spent two months building this image of the guy up, turning him into a jerk or a jack ass and it took less than five minutes for it all to unravel. It had been all he could do not to kiss him right then and there but somewhere he knew he had pride left, don’t ask him how.

“And then you sent him away,” Alex concluded the story for him. “Because he laid his guts out to you and you are still hung up on him and this all makes perfect sense.”

His foot jutted out and banged into Alex’s but with no real force. “Shut up. You know I could still make you sleep somewhere else.”

“Hate to tell you this, Boyd,” Alex cleared his throat. “But if we are dating? I think it’s time we start seeing other people. This’ll never work. I’m into girls and you’re into a total tool.”

Kent sighed. He kind of was.

“You thirsty?”

Kent blinked. “Um. Sure?”

He sat down at what could pass for a table in the corner and waited as Alex sifted through a bag. Alex silently slid a can of warm Diet Coke across the table and popped open his own. Kent briefly wondered if it would turn out to be one of those freaky ‘come-to-jesus’ talks but he wasn’t exactly sure what that would mean coming from Alex and was unnerved at the prospect.

“I’m not asking here, Kent. I’m telling.” Alex took a sip from his drink. “I can’t see you like this anymore and it’s starting to be noticed by the guys around us.”

Kent made a halfway attempt at avoiding the topic. “What’s being noticed?”

Alex raised both eyebrows in that way he had where he was done with any kind of games and wanted to get down to business. “You’ve been playing well, that’s not the question. You’re just off and it’s starting to freak us out, kid.”

“I’m sorry, I thought you were my teammates, not my therapists? And besides, you’re barely older than me. ” He knew he was being snappy but it was a touchy subject. One of his best friends should know that.

“I’m not saying I like the guy, really, he can be kind of a jerk. But apparently? He’s your kind of jerk.”

Kent thunked his head against the nearest surface he could find. “Great, I pick the peaches, don’t I? You’re supposed to be on my side, you know that, right?”

“Now, I think you’ve got two options.” Alex ignored him.

Kent perked up. “What?”

“Option number one? Move on. It’s going to suck, and it going to hurt but just do it. Move past this blip. Find a guy who might actually treat you like the human you are. Whose head and neck aren’t still hiding in the closet.”

Kent bit his lower lip.

“Option number two? Start over. There isn’t changing the past and there are no guarantees for the future. Let it ride, man.”

“It’s not like I’m going to be out while playing baseball.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking commitment ceremony in San Francisco, Kent. Just another try, that’s all I’m saying.”

Kent stared off into the distance and tried to think about what that meant. Despite his annoyance and his exhaustive list of reasons he could give to counter Alex, it did all come down to the fact that he was kind of ridiculous for a the guy. Even as he had pushed Neil out the door he didn’t want to. But he was… hurt, angry, annoyed, tired, lonely and to add insult to injury he _missed_ Neil. It just wasn’t fair.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in my corner all the time, not defending the enemy?” Kent tried one last time.

Alex groaned. “Seriously, I _am_ in your corner. That’s the pathetic part of this.”

Kent took a sip of his Diet Coke and frowned. Stupid Alex having a stupid point.

*

It had taken about a half hour too long for them to call for rain, but on the bright side it would be counted as a win for the Rockies. On the not so bright side, Neil could barely feel his fingers, his legs ached and his head was pounding. He was a bit annoyed at being too old for this crap at 23 but it was cold in Milwaukee and he was tired. Very freaking tired.

He still had the bus ride to the hotel and he slipped his hands into his hoodie, not remembering till his hand hit the case of his phone that he even put it there. It vibrated in his hand as he went to pull it out. A missed call from his mom and one from his brother, he would worry but knowing his family it would be a call to tease about the almost biffed throw to third in the third.

His email was filled with spam, and he wondered what he did before he could just clear it with the swipe of two fingers. He checked the mass amounts of tweets people had made during the game, avoided any with his name as a hash tag – he learned that the hard way—and was just about to grab in his bag for some headphones to zone out when a small yellow box popped up. He rarely got texts anymore except from… well. Before. But he clicked it and blinked at the name beside it.

In his head he heard the word “Accepted” in Kent’s quietly angry voice. He was almost afraid to open the text. It had been two weeks, two rather long weeks, since his trip to Kent’s hotel room.

But curiosity got the better of him and he opened it up to find a simple:

Kent : _Hey_.

Neil stared at it for a long time, wondered if maybe it was a phantom resend from months before. He licked his lips and checked around the dark bus. Everyone was busy with their own thing, it hadn’t just been him left tired and out of it.

Neil : _Hey back_.

He felt admittedly like he was texting back in high school, his face a little flushed and he couldn’t think of anything witty to say. He couldn’t even think of the right way to reiterate how sorry he was, how stupid he felt about the whole thing. He’d laid himself bare in Colorado. It wasn’t his finest moment. Where was he supposed to go from there?

Kent: _Nice throw to Tool-o. Trying to make it to the outfield?_

Kent watched the game? Neil smiled, even through the slight insult.

Neil: _Tulo needs to stretch better. You’d have caught it easy._

Kent: _:)_

Neil wasn’t entirely sure what this was, but when the bus stopped outside of the hotel it felt like it was at least a start.


End file.
